era

in her 20s | she/her | not spoiler free | lots of word vomits | not a writer | inconsistency is my middle name | procrastination is my leisure | i eat angst for breakfast | english will and always be my second language

[conleches]

some fucking resources for all ur writing fuckin needs

body language masterlist

a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does

a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes

550 words to say instead of fuckin said

638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again

some more body language help 

[bellero]

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER

[qifreyseyepiece]

Qifrey x F!reader Modern AU

Qifrey and Olruggio run a daycare center and you’re taking over drop-offs and pick-ups in place of Coco’s parents because they’re so busy at work.

next part

The first thing Qifrey noticed every morning was who walked through the front door.

Some parents rushed in with a coffee in one hand and their child’s backpack in the other. Others lingered, accepting one more hug before heading off to work. A few children arrived still half-asleep, clinging to a favorite blanket, while others burst through the doors with enough energy to wake the entire building.

He greeted every one of them with the same warm smile.

“Good morning, Tetia.”

“Agott, I see you’ve brought another rock for your collection.”

“Richeh, your dinosaur socks are different colors today.”

“They’re supposed to be.”

“Of course they are.”

The daycare erupted into cheerful laughter. Behind the reception desk, Olruggio glanced over the attendance sheet without looking up.

“You’ve got ten minutes before the paint comes out.”

“It’ll be nine.”

“You said that yesterday.”

“And was I wrong?”

“…No.”

The familiar chime above the entrance interrupted their conversation.

“Coco!” Qifrey beamed.

A little girl in bright yellow rain boots barreled through the doorway, abandoning all sense of decorum as she sprinted across the room.

“Mr. Qifrey!”

He crouched just in time for her to throw herself into his arms.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“I brought stickers!”

“So I see.”

She proudly held up an entire sheet of glittering stars.

“For everyone.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

For nearly a year, Coco had been one of the first children to arrive each morning and for nearly a year, she had always come with her father. He was punctual, friendly, and never forgot to remind Coco to use her indoor voice, a reminder that never seemed to work.

Qifrey had grown used to their routine. So when the bell chimed again the following Monday, he barely looked up from the attendance clipboard.

“Good morning, Co—”

Instead of Coco’s father stood a woman he had never seen before.

She couldn’t have been much older than him, dressed neatly for work with a tote bag over one shoulder and Coco’s tiny backpack dangling from the other. She looked slightly flustered, as though she’d spent the entire drive convincing a five year old to wear matching socks.

The moment Coco spotted him, she wriggled free. “Mr. Qifrey!”

“There she is.” He laughed as he caught her effortlessly. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“I wanted pancakes.”

“You always want pancakes.”

“They’re yummy.”

“I suppose that’s a fair argument.”

Only then did he turn his attention back to you. You smiled apologetically.

“Sorry. She gets excited.”

“I’d be worried if she didn’t.” He shifted Coco onto his hip before extending his free hand. “I’m Qifrey.”

You accepted it. “[name].”

“It’s lovely to meet you.”

There was a brief pause. Then, with his usual easy smile, he said,

“It’s nice to finally meet Coco’s mother.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

“No, I’m actu—”

Coco tugged frantically on your sleeve. “I forgot my lunch!”

You looked down. Sure enough, the little pink lunchbox was still hanging from your arm.

“Oh, goodness.”

As you knelt to hand it over, Tetia appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“Coco! Come see my fairy drawing!”

“It needs more sparkles,” Agott declared from across the room.

“It does not!”

“It absolutely does.”

Within seconds, Coco had disappeared into the classroom, dragged away by her friends before either of you could say another word. You stood, brushing your hands together.

“Well… I should probably get going.”

Qifrey smiled. “Have a wonderful day.”

“You too.”

The front door closed behind you. For a moment, Qifrey simply watched through the window as you crossed the parking lot.

“Nice woman,” he murmured.

Olruggio snorted from behind the counter.“Who?”

“Coco’s mom.”

Olruggio glanced up for half a second before returning to the attendance forms.

“Hm.”

The conversation ended there. Neither of them noticed the emergency contact binder lying open on the desk. Under Relationship to Child, next to your neatly printed name, were two simple words.

Maternal Aunt.

By the second day, Qifrey was convinced of one thing. Coco had inherited her smile from you. It was the same kind, bright without trying, the sort that made people smile back before they even realized they were doing it.

Tuesday mornings were always busier than Mondays. One child refused to let go of their father’s leg. Another proudly marched in carrying a worm they’d found outside. Tetia had already convinced three of her classmates that today was “Princess Day,” despite nobody else receiving the memo. The daycare buzzed with the usual controlled chaos. Right on schedule, the front door chimed.

Coco burst inside first. “Mr. Qifrey!”

He barely had enough time to crouch before she wrapped her arms around his neck “Good morning.”

“I drew you something!”

She shoved a folded piece of paper into his hands before running off to find Tetia. Qifrey laughed softly before unfolding it. It was a crayon drawing. Him. Coco. A sun with sunglasses. He wasn’t entirely sure why the sun had sunglasses.

“It’s because he’s cool.” You say.

He looked up to find you smiling.

“She explained it to me all morning.”

“I should’ve known.”

You both laughed. “You’ve survived another morning?”

“Barely.” You rubbed your temple dramatically. “She insisted her stuffed brushbuddy needed breakfast before she did.”

“That’s understandable.”

“You agree with her?”

“I think the brushbuddy would’ve been quite hungry.”

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. “I see why she likes you so much.”

The compliment slipped out so naturally that neither of you seemed to notice.

“Well,” he replied with a small smile, “I like having her here.”

For just a second, neither of you spoke.

“MR. QIFREY!”

A shrill voice echoed from the art room. He sighed.

“…That sounded urgent.”

“It usually is.”

He excused himself with an apologetic smile before disappearing down the hallway. You watched him go. Not because he was particularly handsome

Though…he was... but that wasn’t the point.

It was the way every child instinctively reached for him. The way he knelt until he was eye level with them. The way he listened like every tiny problem was the most important thing in the world.

It wasn’t something you saw often. Most adults talked to children. Qifrey talked with them. You found yourself smiling before heading back to your car. By afternoon pickup, the daycare had settled into a calmer rhythm. The children were scattered around the room, coloring quietly while soft music played in the background.

You stepped inside just as Coco proudly held up a paper crown.

“Auntie! Look!”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I made one for Mr. Qifrey too!”

Sure enough, a matching crown sat crookedly atop Qifrey’s white hair. He looked utterly ridiculous. He wore it with complete confidence.

“It suits you,” you teased.

“I’ve been informed I’m the King of Snack Time.”

“That’s a prestigious title.”

“I worked very hard for it.”

“I can tell.”

Neither of you noticed Olruggio walking past carrying a stack of folded blankets. He looked from Qifrey to you then to the paper crowns.

“…Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He kept walking.

Qifrey frowned after him. “He’s been strange all afternoon.”

From the laundry room, Olruggio called back without missing a beat. “I always act like this.”

“…He’s right,” Qifrey admitted. “He is.”

You laughed. It was easy. Too easy. The sound lingered in the room long after it faded. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Qifrey hoped tomorrow morning would come quickly.

Wednesday morning arrived with a thunderstorm. Rain pattered against the daycare windows, turning the playground into a sea of puddles that had already become the subject of disappointed protests from several children.

“No outside time?” Tetia gasped.

“I’m afraid not,” Qifrey said sympathetically.

“But the puddles need us!”

“I think they’ll manage until tomorrow.”

“They’ll miss us.”

He bit back a smile. “I’ll let them know.”

The front door chimed. Qifrey looked up instinctively. There you were, balancing an umbrella in one hand while Coco happily stomped through every puddle she could find before reaching the entrance.

“Auntie, look!”

Splash.

“I saw.”

Splash.

“I jumped higher that time!”

“You certainly did.”

By the time the two of you stepped inside, the hem of Coco’s raincoat was dotted with muddy water. Qifrey chuckled as he handed her a towel.

“Looks like someone found every puddle.”

“They were calling my name.”

“Were they?”

“Mhm.”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I tried to stop her.”

“I believe you.” He crouched, gently drying Coco’s boots before helping her out of her raincoat. “You’ve got a busy day today?”

You nodded. “Meeting after meeting.”

“I hope it goes smoothly.”

“Me too.”

Before either of you could continue, the office phone rang.

“I’ll be right back,” Qifrey said.

Olruggio wandered over from the art room just as Qifrey disappeared into the office. “You can leave Coco’s extra clothes here.”

“Thanks.”

You knelt beside Coco’s cubby, pulling out a neatly folded change of clothes.

Olruggio glanced at the label inside the backpack.

“Looks like her dad remembered the spare socks this time.”

“He almost forgot.” You laughed. “My brother would’ve driven halfway to work before realizing.”

Olruggio paused. “…Your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Coco’s dad?”

You looked up. “Mhm.”

“Oh.” Olruggio looked toward the office where Qifrey had just disappeared. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“…What is?”

Before he could answer, Qifrey returned, setting the phone back on its cradle.

“Everything alright? It was just one of the parents calling.”

He smiled at you. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

Olruggio casually leaned against the reception desk, arms folded. “So.”

Qifrey looked at him. “So?”

“You know Coco’s aunt?”

Qifrey nodded. “Of course.”

Olruggio raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“…Yes.”

“You sure?”

Qifrey frowned.

“I’ve been talking to her all week.”

“No, you’ve been talking to who you thought she was.”

The room fell strangely quiet. You looked between them, confused. Qifrey blinked.

“…I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

Olruggio looked positively delighted.

“You thought she was Coco’s mom.”

Qifrey slowly turned toward you. You offered him an awkward little smile.

“I… may have tried to tell you on Monday.”

His eyes widened. “…What?”

“But Coco interrupted.”

“I…”

“And then every other time, something happened.”

Qifrey’s ears began turning pink. He looked absolutely horrified.

“Oh…” He covered his face with one hand.“Oh, dear. I am so sorry.”

You couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped you.

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s really not.”

“It honestly became kind of funny.”

“I called you her mother.”

“More than once.”

“I complimented your parenting.”

“You did.”

“I told another parent Coco looked like you.”

“You also did that.”

Qifrey let out the quietest groan imaginable.“I think I’d like to disappear now.”

You laughed harder, the sound bright enough to fill the lobby.

“It’s okay, Qifrey.”

He lowered his hand just enough to peek at you.

“You’ve been laughing about this?”

“A little.”

“A little?”

“Mostly because you looked so confident every time.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat. “I was, wasn’t I?”

“You really were.”

Even Olruggio couldn’t hold back anymore. A low chuckle escaped him as he shook his head.

“I figured you’d eventually read the emergency contact forms.”

Qifrey froze. “…The forms.”

“The forms.” Olruggio repeated.

“I…”

He looked toward the binder sitting innocently on the reception desk.

“…I never looked past the first page.”

“I know.”

“You knew?”

“I know you.”

You smiled at the two of them, slipping Coco’s backpack onto her cubby hook.

“For what it’s worth,” you said, “I don’t mind being mistaken for her mom.”

Qifrey looked up. “You don’t?”

“No.” You shrugged with an easy smile. “I love her like she’s my own.”

Something in his expression softened. Not because of the misunderstanding. Because of the sincerity in your voice. He’d always known Coco was a happy child. Now he understood why. She had an entire family who loved her enough to rearrange their lives for her. Including the aunt who now stood in front of him, rain speckled from the morning commute, smiling as though accidentally embarrassing him was the funniest thing to happen all week.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, he found himself smiling back. The misunderstanding had changed something. Not in an awkward way. If anything, it made everything feel lighter.

“Good morning, Coco.”

Thursday morning arrived just as every other weekday had. Coco ran straight into the classroom after a quick hug from Qifrey, proudly announcing she’d brought enough crayons “for everybody this time.” The moment she disappeared around the corner, an unusual silence settled between the two adults standing by the reception desk.

Qifrey cleared his throat. “…Good morning.”

You smiled. “Good morning.”

Olruggio, who had been reorganizing cubbies a few feet away, glanced over once.

Painful.

He went back to work.

Qifrey rubbed the back of his neck. “I realized…”

“Hm?”

“I never actually welcomed you properly.”

“You didn’t?”

“The first time I greeted you, it was as Coco’s mother.”

A laugh escaped you. “I suppose that’s true.”

“So…” He offered his hand again, though this time it was accompanied by an amused smile. “I’m Qifrey. Coco’s daycare guardian.”

You looked at his outstretched hand before taking it. “It’s nice to meet you, Qifrey.I’m [name]. Coco’s aunt.”

“Likewise.”

You both laughed.

“I think this introduction went much better.”

“I’d say so.”

Neither of you seemed in any hurry to let go. It was only when a tiny voice shouted—

“MR. QIFREY, HE ATE THE GLUE!”

—that you both realized your hands were still joined.

You let go first. “I should…”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“I’ll be here.”

As you walked out the door, Qifrey caught himself watching you through the front window. Again.

“…”

He sighed to himself.

Pull yourself together.

“You’re staring.”

Qifrey nearly jumped. Olruggio was standing beside him, holding a roll of paper towels.

“I wasn’t.”

“You watched her drive away.”

“I was looking outside.”

“You smiled.”

“I smile all the time.”

“Not like that.”

Qifrey busied himself straightening a stack of coloring books. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hm.” Olruggio wasn’t convinced.

Not even a little. That afternoon, pickup was unusually quiet. Most of the children had already gone home, leaving only Coco and Agott sitting at a small table with a thousand-piece puzzle that absolutely did not have a thousand pieces. You stepped through the door just as Qifrey was helping Coco zip up her little cardigan.

“There you are.”

“Sorry I’m a few minutes late.”

“You made excellent time.”

“You don’t have to be nice.”

“I wasn’t.” He smiled. “I was honest.”

Coco looked between the two of you. Then, with all the subtlety of a five year old, she grinned.

“Mr. Qifrey!”

“Yes?”

“You and Auntie are talking lots now.”

The room fell silent. You felt your face warm. Qifrey blinked.

“We… are.”

“I think that’s nice.” Coco beamed.

“So do I,” Tetia announced from under the reading table.

Agott looked up from the puzzle. “I thought everyone knew.”

“Knew what?” you asked.

Tetia crawled out, dusting imaginary dirt from her knees. “Mr. Qifrey always smiles when Coco’s Auntie comes!”

“I smile all the time. ” Qifrey replied a touch too quickly.

“You do,” Coco said. “You smile different.”

“I… smile different?”

“Mhm!” Tetia nodded enthusiastically. “Like this!”

She stretched her mouth into the widest, goofiest grin imaginable. Coco copied her.

Agott sighed dramatically. “They’re exaggerating.”

Qifrey visibly relaxed. “…Thank you, Agott.”

She looked him dead in the eye. “It’s actually much worse.”

Olruggio chose that exact moment to walk through the doorway carrying a box of art supplies. He took one look at Qifrey’s increasingly pink face, the three children staring at him expectantly, and you trying very hard not to laugh.

“…What’d I miss?”

Without missing a beat, Agott answered, “Mr. Qifrey has a crush.”

The box slipped from Olruggio’s hands. Markers scattered across the floor. Silence. Absolute, crushing silence.

Qifrey’s eyes widened. “I—I do not—I mean—”

Words failed him completely. You bit your lip, trying and failing to hide your smile. Olruggio slowly crouched to pick up the markers.

“…Kids really do say the funniest things.”

There was just enough amusement in his voice that Qifrey shot him a pleading look.

Don’t.

Olruggio only smirked. He wasn’t about to rescue him. Not this time. The children forgot about it by the next morning. Qifrey did not. Every time he thought about Agott’s declaration,

“Mr. Qifrey has a crush.”

he felt the tips of his ears warm all over again.

Objectively, it was ridiculous. Children made things up all the time…right?

“Mr. Qifrey?”

He blinked. Coco was standing in front of him, lunchbox in hand.

“You forgot my sticker.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

He smiled apologetically before reaching into the desk drawer. Every child received a sticker at drop off. It had become one of the daycare’s little traditions. Coco always chose the sparkliest one. Today, she proudly selected a glittery frog.

“Excellent choice.”

“Thank you!”

She beamed before skipping off toward the reading corner. The bell above the entrance chimed. Qifrey looked up. There you were.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.”

You stepped inside carrying an insulated lunch bag and a travel mug.

“I think someone forgot this.” You held up a navy blue thermos.

Qifrey stared. “…That’s mine.”

“It was sitting on top of Coco’s cubby.”

He accepted it with both hands. “I didn’t even realize I’d left it.”

“I figured.” You smiled. “You strike me as the type who remembers everyone else’s things before your own.”

He laughed softly. “…You’ve only known me for a week.”

“And am I wrong?”

He glanced down at the thermos before shaking his head. “…No.”

“You would’ve probably noticed by lunchtime.”

“Probably.”

“But then you wouldn’t have had any coffee.”

“…That would’ve been tragic.”

“It would’ve.”

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. It was nice. Comfortably quiet. The kind of silence that didn’t feel like it needed filling.

“You know,” you said eventually, “Coco talks about you a lot.”

His expression softened. “Does she?”

“Mhm.”

“Should I be worried?”

You laughed. “Mostly she tells me about the games you make up.”

“The pirate treasure hunt?”

“Apparently it lasted three days.”

“It was a very difficult treasure to find.”

“She came home insisting our living room was haunted by sea monsters.”

“…That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I don’t think she minded.”

“I hope not.”

“Actually…” You smiled fondly. “I haven’t seen her this excited about daycare before.”

He looked toward the classroom, where Coco was helping Tetia build an impossibly tall tower from wooden blocks.

“I’m glad.”

“No.” Your voice grew quieter. “I’m grateful.”

He turned back to you.

“My brother’s promotion has him leaving before sunrise. My sister gets home after dinner most nights. So…” You shrugged. “I worried Coco would feel…forgotten.”

The words hung gently between you.

“But every evening…she tells me a new story.”

“‘Mr. Qifrey read us a dragon book.’”

“‘Mr. Qifrey helped me paint a rainbow.’”

“‘Mr. Qifrey said I was brave because I tried broccoli.’”

A smile tugged at your lips. “I don’t think she realizes it yet…but you’ve made this transition so much easier for her.”

Qifrey wasn’t sure what to say. Compliments from parents happened often. They thanked him. Brought homemade cookies. Wrote holiday cards, but hearing it from you…Somehow, it settled differently. He looked down with a sheepish smile.

“I just want the children to feel safe here.”

“I know, and they do.” Your answer came without hesitation. “They really do.”

The bell over the door jingled again as Agott arrived with her older sister. Duty called.

“I should—”

“Of course.”

He gave you an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you this afternoon?”

“You will.”

You started toward the door before stopping.“Oh.”

“Hm?”

“I almost forgot.”

From your tote bag, you pulled out a small paper bag. “My brother baked too many blueberry muffins yesterday.”

“I don’t believe that’s possible.”

“I said the same thing.” You held the bag out. “He insisted I bring these for everyone here.”

Qifrey accepted it carefully. The warmth still lingered through the paper.

“You’ll have to thank him for us.”

“I will.”

“And…” He looked up. “…thank you.”

Your smile returned. “It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you looked away. Then Coco’s voice rang through the daycare.

“Auntie!”

You both got startled before laughing at the same time.

“I really should go now,” you said.

“I suppose you should.”

You gave a little wave.

“Bye, Qifrey.”

“…Bye [name].”

The door closed behind you. Qifrey remained where he stood, the warm paper bag still in his hands. Olruggio appeared beside him a moment later, carrying a basket of clean towels, he had already helped with Agott since Qifrey was taking a while.

“…You gonna stand there all morning?”

Qifrey blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been smiling at a bag of muffins for a solid thirty seconds.”

Qifrey immediately looked down. “…I have not.”

“You absolutely have.” Olruggio peeked into the bag. “Blueberry?”

“Yeah…she remembered my favorite.” Qifrey froze. “I…I never told her that.”

Olruggio slowly looked up at him. Then toward the front door. Then back at him.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

By Friday, your morning routine had become second nature. Wake Coco up. Convince her that, yes, she really did have to brush her teeth. Pack her lunch. Double check her backpack. Leave the apartment before she remembered the stuffed rabbit she’d inevitably forgotten.

“You have brushbuddy?”

Coco patted her backpack proudly. “Mhm!”

“And your lunch?”

“Mhm!”

“Water bottle?”

“…”

“Coco.”

She gasped dramatically. “I forgot!”

You laughed as you retrieved the bottle from the kitchen counter.

“I thought so.”

The bell above the daycare door chimed. Qifrey looked up almost immediately. He told himself it was because he always greeted families as they arrived. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it was almost eight thirty or that you usually arrived at eight twenty eight.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“Morning.” You smiled as Coco wriggled out of your grasp.

She didn’t even make it three steps before she tripped over absolutely nothing.

“Oh!”

Qifrey caught her before she could hit the floor.

“There we go.”

Coco looked up at him sheepishly. “I meant to do that.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“I was practicing.”

“For the Olympics?”

“The Running Olympics.”

“I’ll be cheering for you.”

She giggled before taking off again, this time at a slightly safer speed. You let out a quiet sigh.

“I swear she has endless energy.”

“It tends to rub off on everyone else.”

Qifrey’s eyes drifted toward the classroom, where Tetia was already trying to organize a game involving scarves, stuffed animals, and a cardboard box.

“…Case in point.”

You laughed. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Keep up with all of them.”

He considered the question. “I don’t think about keeping up.”

“No?”

“I just join them.”

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

“If they’re pretending the playground is a pirate ship…it becomes a pirate ship. If we’re reading about dragons…there are dragons.”

“No wonder Coco adores you.”

His heart gave an embarrassing little skip. He was saved from answering by Olruggio, who emerged from the supply room carrying a folded play mat.

“You left your coffee in the microwave.”

Qifrey blinked. “Again?”

“Again.”

He looked at you with a sheepish grin. “I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

“You have.” Olruggio didn’t even look up. “Three times this week.”

“I’ve just been busy.”

“Hm.”

Olruggio’s reply was so unconvinced that you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.

That afternoon, rain forced everyone inside again. The children had turned the dramatic play corner into a pretend grocery store. Tetia was the cashier. Agott insisted on being “quality control.” Coco had somehow become the manager. When you arrived, you found Qifrey standing at the tiny plastic checkout counter while Coco scanned a toy banana across a wooden block.

“That’ll be… um…” She frowned in concentration. “…seventy two dollars.”

Qifrey gasped. “For one banana?”

“It’s organic.”

“I see.”

“And…” Coco leaned closer. “…Mr. Olruggio grew it.”

Qifrey nodded solemnly. “That explains the price.”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh. Qifrey noticed you first.

“Ah, perfect timing.”

He reached into the tiny shopping basket beside him and held up a plush carrot.

“I was just about to buy dinner.”

“That’s an expensive carrot,” you teased.

“It is if Coco’s in charge.”

“I heard that!” Coco called. “It’s premium!”

“I stand corrected.”

You wandered closer, crouching beside the play counter. “I’d like to buy an apple.”

Coco’s face lit up. “Okay!”

She immediately abandoned Qifrey in favor of helping you. He stepped aside with a laugh, making room. As the children busied themselves ringing up imaginary groceries, you found yourself standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Neither of you spoke. There wasn’t much room behind the tiny counter. Your sleeves brushed. Just barely.

Neither of you moved away.

“You know…” you murmured, watching Coco carefully wrap a wooden apple in tissue paper, “I was nervous about bringing her.”

Qifrey glanced at you.

“My brother found this daycare before his promotion. I was worried she wouldn’t adjust to me doing the drop offs instead.”

He listened quietly.

“But every morning…” You smiled to yourself.

“…she can’t wait to get here.”

“That’s because she knows someone’s excited to see her.” His words were gentle.

As though it were the simplest thing in the world.

You looked at him. “And she’s right.”

Your eyes met. The laughter of the children faded into the background. For just a moment, it felt as though the two of you were the only adults in the room.

“…Mr. Qifrey?”

The spell broke. He turned.

“Yes, Coco?”

She held up two pieces of construction paper taped together.

“Look!”

Across the front, in enormous, uneven crayon letters, she had written:

MR. QIFREY + AUNTIE = BEST FRIENDS

Decorated with far more hearts than either of you thought necessary. The room went completely silent. You stared at the sign. Qifrey stared at the sign. Then, very slowly, both of you looked at Coco. She smiled proudly.

“I made it because you’re always happy when Auntie comes.”

Before either of you could recover, Olruggio walked in carrying a fresh box of crayons. He glanced at the sign. Then at the two of you. Then back at the sign.

“…Best friends, huh?” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I think the kids are being pretty conservative.”

Qifrey let out the longest, most defeated sigh of his life. “…Olruggio.”

“What?”

“I’m just reading the artwork.”

a/n: this is happening simultaneously with the Olruggio one. I thought it would be fun if they were in the same timeline 😋 and yes Easthies will have his turn too

[ahhsjshsjsjdkd]

THIS IS SO GOOD. THE SLOWNUR MAKES ME AKCKRJXMDJXKDJKXJXMDKDKD

[cyborgsmanifesto]

dealing with the worst case scenario

your condom breaks

you feel a lump on your breast

your friends are ignoring you

you’re stranded on an island 

you got rejected by a crush

you get into a car accident

you got stung by a bee/wasp

you got fired from your job

you’re in an earthquake

your tattoo gets infected

your house is on fire

you’re lost in the woods

you get arrested abroad

you get robbed

your partner cheated on you

you’re on a ship that’s sinking

you fall into ice

you’re stuck in an elevator

you hit a deer with your car

you have food poisoning

your pet passed away

you fall off of a horse

you or your friend has alcohol poisoning

you have toxic shock syndrome

your house has a gas leak

[4velitta4]

I feel like this could be useful in my future

[astrologypixies-deactivated2016]

REBLOG THIS. I CANNOT STRESS HOW IMPORTANT THIS GUIDES ARE, BOOST THIS SHIT

[getupoffyourcassbutt]

If I don’t reblog this one of these things is definitely going to happen to me

[yournevergonnamakeitsworld]

Useful as fuck…

[zaynezone]

LUSH LIFE

spending a week faking a relationship with the world's most perfect man? what could go wrong?

warnings: tbd <3

updates every sunday!

taglist is closed!

prelude

chapter 1: As if there was no past

chapter 2: Doin' it the way I wanna

chapter 3: Gonna spend it like no other

chapter 4: The lush life's given me a rush

chapter 5: The sun won't set on us

[qifreyseyepiece]

The Weight of A Wishing Relic (Series Masterlist)

After years of growing up together, you, Qifrey, and Olruggio part ways after passing the Fourth Test, each pursuing your own path while staying connected through letters. When a dangerous relic investigation leads you back to Qifrey’s atelier, the trio reunites and is drawn into a mystery surrounding a divided “wishing” artifact, forcing them to confront forgotten bonds, buried feelings, and the growing threat of the Brimhats, who will stop at nothing to obtain its power.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 - END

[xxsyluslittlecrowxx]

For the Valko requests, I would love to see some cute family fluff between MC, Valko, his cousins, grandma, and his sister (I think he had a sister in his lore, correct me if I am wrong), because I want to see how MC would get along with Valko's family. 🐺

𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

synopsis: when valko brings you home for the first time, he warns you about everything: his grandmother’s food, his sister’s stare, his cousin’s stories, the family jokes that always cut too close. he forgets to warn you that love in his house is not gentle or quiet, but loud, practical, mercilessly observant, and served warm at the kitchen table. cw/tw: valko x reader. very soft domestic fluff. light family teasing. read here: ao3 ⋅ tumblr

Valko lost his nerve three steps from the door.

It was a small death, but you saw it happen; the brave lift of his chin, the twitch in his jaw, the small, tragic collapse of his entire face when a crash came from inside the house.

His hand tightened around yours.

“Dobro,” he said.

Another crash.

From inside, and older woman called, “If that's my good plate, I will put someone in the ground before supper.”

Valko closed his eyes. You turned toward him.

He opened one eyes. “She loves plates.”

“More than people?”

“Depends on the people.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, and relief moved through him all at once, softening his shoulders, loosening the frightened line of his mouth. He'd been nervous all morning. Badly nervous. Valko, who could grin with blood on his teeth and make danger look like a door he'd simply forgotten to knock on, had spent the whole walk here giving you warnings no sane person could have prepared for.

Do not let Mika read your palm. He makes things up and then believes them.

Do not compliment Baba's curtains unless you want curtains.

Do not say you're full.

And, most importantly, if anyone mentions the soup incident, Valko had said, grave as a condemned man, they're lying.

You had asked what the soup incident was.

He had started to walk faster.

Now he stood before the old wooden door with your fingers caught in his, trying to look calm and producing, somehow, the exact expression of a wolf about to be bathed.

“Valko,” you said softly.

“Yes?”

“You're shaking.”

“I'm not shaking.”

“You are.”

“I’m containing myself.”

“From what?”

“Hereditary embarrassment.”

The door flew open.

A girl about his age stood on the other side, dark-eyed and grinning, with flour on her cheek and murder in her posture. She took one look at Valko’s hand around yours, then lifted her gaze to his face with the slow delight of someone finding a knife exactly where she had hoped one would be.

A slow smile cut across her face.

“Oh,” she smirked. “So this is why you changed your shirt twice.”

Valko made a sound. Small, wounded, entirely unlike a wolf.

“I changed once.”

“You changed twice. The first shirt was the blue one. The second was the one that made you look like you were going to court. This...This is the third.”

His ears went red.

The woman held out her hand to you. “Milena. His sister.”

“Unfortunately,” Valko added.

“Fortunately. Without me, you'd still think soap is optional in winter.”

“It isn't optional.”

“Because of me.”

You took Milena's hand. Her grip was warm, firm, and full of judgement she hadn't yet decided to use.

Behind her, the house breathed out heat. Bread, onions, some in old wood, something sweet cooling on a counter. There were voices everywhere, layered and crossing. One person laughing while another complained, a child humming under a table, chairs scraping, a kettle whistling like a bird losing patience.

Milena stepped aside. “Come in before Baba starts saying we were raised by wolves.”

Valko muttered, “We were.”

She looked at him. “And still, some of us learned manners.”

You crossed the threshold. The house was smaller than the noise made it seem, or maybe the noise had simply learned to fill every corner. Framed photographs climbed the walls in crooked rows. Herbs hung drying above the kitchen window. Nothing matched, and yet everything looked touched, mended, argued over... kept.

Valko leaned close as he helped you out of your coat.

“Last chance,” he whispered. “We can run.”

You looked past him to where an old woman stood near the stove, hands folded over her apron, watching you with bright, wolfish eyes.

“Too late,” you whispered back. “I think she heard you.”

“I hear everything,” the old woman said.

Valko went still.

Milena smiled into her shoulder.

The old woman crossed the kitchen with the slow authority of someone who had ruled this house before any of them had teeth. She was small, broad in the shoulders, silver-haired, with flour on her wrist and no softness wasted in her face. The softness, you realised, was elsewhere. In the bread covered by a towel, in the chair pulled out before you reached it, in the way Valko lowered his head without being asked when she came close.

“Baba,” he said, and for the first time that day, his voice lost its jokes.

She, of course, ignored him.

Instead, she took your face between both hands.

Her palms smelled of rosemary, yeast, and soap. Her thumbs rested beneath your cheekbones, and for one strange second the whole house seemed to lean closer. The cousins, the kettle, the old boards, even Valko, holding his breath beside you.

“So,” Baba Vesna said. “You are the reason he forgets to eat.”

“I eat,” Valko protested.

Teta Marika appeared by the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “You came here last week, opened the pantry, stared at a sack of potatoes for six minutes, then said, ‘I wonder what she’s doing.’”

“That was taken out of context.”

“What was the context?” you asked, because love had made you brave and terrible.

Valko looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

A boy leaning backwards on his chair nearly lost balance from laughing, another cousin caught the chair by its back without looking up from peeling an apple.

Baba Vesna patted your cheek once and released you. “Sit, dušo. Eat something before my family embarrass me properly.”

Valko gave a strangled laugh. “Before?”

No one listened to him.

You were placed at the long wooden table as if the decision had been made before you arrived. A bowl appeared, then bread, then butter, then a small plate of pickled vegetables. Teta Marika, Valko's aunt, kissed the air beside your cheeks and took the small gift you had brought. Mika announced that he already knew your favourite colour from Valko’s face. Luka told him that was the stupidest sentence ever spoken in the kitchen, which Mika accepted as praise. The little one beneath the table emerged, solemn and bread-dusted, and introduced himself as Niko.

“Are you going to marry him?” Niko asked.

Valko walked directly into the side of a chair.

The whole kitchen paused. You pressed your lips together.

Milena leaned against the doorway, radiant with cruelty. “Careful, Niko. Val only has two knees.”

“Niko,” Teta Marika turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “We ask guests if they want juice first.”

Niko nodded, absorbing this etiquette with grave importance. “Do you want juice before you marry him?”

Valko covered his face with both hands. You bit down on your smile so hard it almost hurt. This wasn't what you had expected.

Some foolish, frightened part of you had imagined a den in the old sense. Teeth, watchful eyes, a family arranged around blood and law, waiting to decide whether your bones could be allowed near theirs. Valko had never spoken of them casually. Whenever he said home, something tender and embarrassed moved through him, as though the word itself had fingers and knew exactly where to touch.

Now you sat beneath a crooked lamp while his grandmother tore bread with her hands and put the first piece on your plate.

“Eat,” Baba Vesna said.

You obeyed.

The bread was warm enough to steam between your fingers. The crust cracked softly, butter melted into it in golden lines. Across the table, Valko watched you take the first bite as if your mouth held judgment from heaven.

You chewed. Swallowed.

“It’s delicious.”

Baba Vesna clicked her tongue. “Of course it is wonderful. I made it.”

Mika leaned towards you. “He talked about you after the market yesterday.”

Valko’s hand hit the table. “No.”

“Yes, you did” Luka said sticking his tongue out.

“No.”

“You said, and I quote, 'she chooses fruit with such care'.”

The table went quiet for half a breath, your hand stilled around the bread. Valko looked at Luka as if betrayal had entered the room wearing his cousin’s face.

“That was private.”

“You said it in the kitchen.”

“That makes it private.”

Milena sat across from you and rested her chin in her hand. “He also said you have kind hands.”

Valko’s mouth opened, nothing came out. Your heart did something foolish inside your chest.

The teasing had worked him bright and flustered, but beneath it, something softer trembled. He was embarrassed, yes. Horribly, so. Beautifully, so. Yet the thing underneath was more dangerous than shame. This was exposure. A curtain pulled open in a room he had spent so long keeping dim.

He had spoken of you here.

At this table. In this warm, loud house. To these people who teased him because they knew what he looked like with no armour on. He had brought you home long before he ever brought your body through the door.

Baba Vesna filled your bowl with soup.

“He was always like this,” she said.

“Baba, please.”

“He was a strange child,” she said.

Valko groaned. “Please.”

“A sweet child,” Teta Marika corrected.

“A dramatic child,” Luka said.

“A biting child,” Milena added.

Valko pointed at her. “You bit first.”

“You looked biteable.”

“You see what I mean?” Valko turned to you with helpless outrage. “This is what I survived.”

There was love in it, the kind that had been cooked too long and reduced into something strong enough to stain. They spoke to him as if they had known every version of him and chosen, again and again, to keep putting food in front of whichever one came home.

You looked at him while he argued with Mika about whether a stolen spoon counted as a childhood trauma.

He caught you looking. For a moment, the noise thinned.

There he was.

Valko with his hair refusing every law of decency. Valko trying so hard to survive his own family and failing beautifully. His eyes met yours with a nervous brightness that made you want to reach across the table and be cruel to every fear that had ever found him.

Then Niko pointed his spoon at you.

“Are you keeping him?”

The kitchen stopped.

Valko made a tiny sound into his bowl.

Milena closed her eyes as if praying for patience and finding none. “Niko.”

“What? Mika said maybe she is keeping him.”

His gaze dropped to the table, to the bread by his hand, to the small old cuts in the wood. The blush still clung to him, but it had changed into something quieter now. Hope, perhaps. Or terror wearing hope’s coat.

You could have laughed. Everyone would have let you. It would have been easy to throw the question back into the room like a toy and watch them tear it apart.

Instead, beneath the table, you found Valko’s hand.

His fingers closed around yours at once.

“I’d like to,” you said.

The house held itself still for half a breath.

Then Baba Vesna nodded, once, as if some old contract had been signed in soup and honey.

“Good,” she said. “He is difficult, but warm.”

Valko bowed his head.

His shoulders shook.

At first you thought he was upset. Then you realised he was laughing, quietly, helplessly, with one hand over his mouth and the other holding yours under the table like he meant to keep it there until winter.

Mika groaned. “Ah, look at him. Finished. Completely finished.”

Milena reached for the pickles. “Good. He needed finishing.”

Teta Marika smiled into her tea. “Eat more, zlato. You will need strength.”

“For Valko?” you asked.

“For all of us.”

Dinner became less a meal than a storm with chairs.

Bowls moved, hands reached, stories climbed over one another and died unfinished because someone remembered a better accusation. Luka asked you practical questions in a calm voice: where you liked to walk, whether Valko had shown you the old river path, whether he still pretended not to like sweet things. Mika tried to read your palm and declared that you were fated to own a troublesome dog.

“That's just Valko,” Milena said.

“I am not a dog.”

“True,” Luka said. “Dogs listen.”

Valko began quietly placing the best pieces of food on your plate.

A soft carrot, the inside of the bread, a dumpling he pretended to move away from himself and somehow abandoned beside your spoon. He was not subtle. He had never been subtle. He was a wolf trying to hide a whole deer behind a napkin.

You noticed on the fourth offering.

His family noticed on the first.

Baba Vesna said nothing until Valko tried to give you the last honey cake. Then she leaned back in her chair and looked at him over her tea.

“Ah,” she said.

Valko froze.

It was one syllable. It landed like a bell.

“What?” he said.

“No, no.” She waved him off. “Continue. Starve for romance. Very noble.”

Mika threw his head back.

You picked up the honey cake before Valko could die at the table and broke it in two, placing half on his plate. “There,” you said. “No starving.”

He looked at the cake.

Then he looked at you.

His expression opened in a way that made the room, somehow, feel too small for your heart. It opened with that unguarded, bewildered softness he sometimes gave you when kindness arrived before he had prepared himself to receive it.

Milena saw it.

Her teasing quieted.

For a moment, she only watched him with something old and protective in her face.

Then she stood. “Come help me with plates.”

Valko blinked. “Me?”

“Her.” Milena pointed at you.

Valko frowned. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That's not a reason.”

“It has worked on you for years.”

You rose before he could protest again. Milena took two plates from the table and handed you none of them, which told you at once that this had nothing to do with helping.

She led you down a narrow hallway lined with photographs.

Behind you, Valko’s voice rose. “Do not interrogate her.”

The hallway smelled faintly of beeswax and dried herbs. The noise of the kitchen softened behind you, still there, still golden, but now wrapped in walls. Milena stopped by a window overlooking the yard and leaned her hip against the sill.

For the first time all evening, she let the smile leave her face.

“He likes you,” she said.

You smiled gently. “I got that impression.”

“No.” Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen. “He likes people easily. He likes old men who tell bad stories, stray cats that scratch him, children who throw rocks at windows because they want attention. Valko is built stupid that way.”

A laugh escaped you.

Milena folded her arms.

“He brings things home,” she continued. “Broken things, angry things. Things he thinks no one else will be gentle with.” Her gaze moved towards the kitchen, where Valko’s voice lifted in protest. “He does not bring people home.”

Your throat tightened.

From the kitchen, Valko shouted, “It wasn't soup. It was stew.”

Mika shouted back, “Stew cannot make a grown man cry.”

“I was overwhelmed by flavour.”

Milena closed her eyes for one second. “Bože, give me strength.”

You laughed softly.

She looked at you again, sharper now.

“He was nervous all week,” she said. “Changed his shirt three times. Asked me if the house smelled too much like onions. Asked Luka if his laugh was strange. Asked Baba if she could please not tell the story about the goat.”

“The goat?”

“Later.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “Maybe never.”

You glanced back towards the kitchen.

He had asked if his laugh was strange.

Something in you ached with such tenderness that it almost felt like anger.

You looked down.

“He didn’t need to worry,”

“He is clumsy with precious things,” she said. “Because he thinks his hands are only good for breaking them, even when he is careful. Especially then.”

“So be kind,” she said. “Or be cruel quickly. He will survive either, but I prefer to know which one I’m dealing with.”

There it was.

The knife under the table. The love with its teeth intact. You didn't resent her for it, you thought, strangely, that you liked her more for it.

“I’m not here to hurt him,”

“Most people aren’t, at first.”

“Milena.”

Milena’s gaze narrowed.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with him,” you admitted.

“With any of this,” you continued. “He makes everything feel…” You searched for the word and hated every pretty one that came. Fated. Wild. Tender. All too polished for the mess he made of your heart. “He makes everything feel like I’ve been walking past a door my whole life, and he is the idiot who opened it with his shoulder.”

Milena stared at you.

Then she laughed once, sharp and startled.

“Oh,” she said. “You’re gone too.”

You looked down, caught.

She seemed satisfied. “Good.”

“Is that approval?”

“That is me deciding not to be difficult.”

“You were being difficult?”

“Dušo,” she said, and now her smile had teeth in it, “I was being polite.”

When you returned to the kitchen, Valko was waiting near the doorway as if he had tried to remain seated and failed.

His eyes moved from you to Milena. “What did you say to her?”

Milena walked past him. “That you were adopted.”

“I’m not.”

“Emotionally, you're a wet dog we found in the rain.”

He watched her go, wounded on principle, then turned to you with genuine concern. “What did she actually say?”

You reached up and brushed flour from his sleeve. “That you’re warm.”

“That was Baba.”

“Family consensus.”

His mouth twitched. “You are enjoying this.”

“I am.”

“You were supposed to be intimidated.”

“By Mika?”

“By the bloodline. The history. The general atmosphere of teeth.”

“Mika told me my palm says I’ll own a dog.”

Valko sighed.

You reached up and plucked the dish towel from his shoulder. “You have flour on your sleeve.”

He looked down, surprised, as if his own body had been making decisions without him. Then he looked back at you, and the kitchen noise faded once more, though this time it was only the two of you making the world small.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

The question was casual enough for anyone else to miss the tremor underneath. You heard it. The naked, waiting part. You thought of his hand shaking outside the door. Baba Vesna taking your face between her palms, of bread steaming in your fingers, of honey cake divided in two, of Milena saying he doesn't bring people home.

“I’m all right,” you said. “Are you?”

Valko smiled too quickly. “I’m alive.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

His smile softened.

For once, he did not joke immediately. It cost him something. You could see it in the way his fingers flexed at his side, reaching for mischief and finding courage instead.

“I wanted them to like you,” he said. “I wanted you to like them.”

“I do”

“I wanted…” He stopped, then laughed under his breath. “I don’t know. Something stupid.”

He looked towards the kitchen, where his family had resumed their noise without mercy. Mika was accusing Luka of stealing the larger piece of cake. Baba Vesna had taken down a tin from the highest shelf, probably containing either biscuits or secrets.

“Valko, stop hiding her. I have photographs.”

Horror returned to his face with magnificent speed.

“No.”

“Yes,”

“No photographs.”

“Naked baby photos,” Mika added.

Valko went pale. “You do not have those.”

Teta Marika’s voice drifted after him, serene and deadly. “We have everything.”

He grabbed your hand. “We’re leaving.”

You let him pull you three steps before Baba Vesna appeared in the doorway holding a small album to her chest.

“Sit,” she said.

Valko sat.

It was remarkable how quickly a wolf could become a grandson.

For the next hour, they showed you the evidence of his life.

Valko missing two front teeth and glaring at the camera as though betrayed by dentistry. Valko asleep under the table with one hand buried in a dog’s fur. Valko at thirteen, all elbows and outrage, holding a fish half his size while crying because he had to put it back.

There was Valko covered in mud, Valko wearing a paper crown, Valko with Milena’s arm hooked around his neck while he pretended to hate her and leaned into her anyway. Valko standing beside Baba Vesna in the garden, holding a basket of tomatoes like he had been entrusted with the fate of nations.

Each photograph was another small door.

You had known him in pieces: the grin, the hunger, the awkward tenderness, the jokes he threw like branches over deep water. Here was the rest of him. Here was the child who had survived becoming himself because these hands had fed him, scolded him, dragged him upright, and remembered his softness when he tried to outgrow it.

At some point, while everyone argued over whether the goat incident happened before or after the soup incident, Valko bent close to you.

“You don’t have to keep looking,” he murmured.

You turned a page.

A tiny Valko stared up from the album, holding a wooden spoon like a sword.

“Yes,” you said. “I do.”

He stared at you.

Then, very briefly, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

It lasted only a second. A shy, exhausted surrender. No one commented on it, though you knew every person in the room saw. That seemed to be another house rule. They would mock the wound, yes, but they protected the pulse.

Later, when the cups were cleared and the album returned to its shelf of holy embarrassments, you stepped outside for air.

The yard was cold, dark and soft around the edges. Herbs grew beneath the window, yhe old trees leaned towards the house as if listening. Behind you, the kitchen glowed gold, laughter pressing against the glass.

Valko followed after a moment, closing the door carefully behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You looked at him. “For what?”'

“The interrogation. The photographs. Mika. The marriage question. The soup litigation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Milena.”

“I like Milena.”

“That means she behaved.”

“She said she was being polite.”

He winced. “Then she liked you.”

You leaned back against the porch railing, and he stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets, rocking once on his heels like he wanted to come closer and had forgotten the law of his own body.

Through the window, you could see Baba Vesna pretending to wipe the table while watching you both with shameless interest. You lifted a hand and waved.

She waved back.

Valko turned, saw her, and groaned. “For the love of...Baba.”

“She loves you.”

“That's her usual excuse for crimes.”

“It’s a good one.”

He looked back at you, and the teasing left him slowly, piece by piece. Out here, with the house at his back, he seemed caught between the wild thing and the loved thing. The wolf and the boy in the paper crown. The man who had brought you to the threshold with shaking hands and still tried to joke like fear could be made harmless if he gave it a funny name.

“Did you mean it?” he asked.

“Which part?”

“When Niko asked if you were keeping me.”

The question came lightly, too lightly. A feather laid over a blade.

You reached for him.

This time, Valko did not hesitate. He came into your space at once, as if pulled by a string tied somewhere behind his ribs. His hands settled at your waist, careful at first, then warmer when you didn't move away.

“I meant it,”

His eyes searched yours.

“For tonight?”

“For longer than that.”

He didn't kiss you immediately. Somehow, that made it worse. He stood there and let the answer enter him, slowly, like someone opening the door to a room he had been told was empty and finding it lit.

Inside, Mika yelled, “Are they kissing?”

Valko dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

“Leave them. He is finally being normal.”

You laughed.

He looked at you then, and the last of his embarrassment broke open into something bright, something almost boyish

“Welcome home,” he said, very softly.

You touched his cheek.

Behind him, the old house breathed and creaked and held its golden noise. Inside, his family waited with tea, teeth, stories, and a place at the table already made yours.

“Welcome home, Valko.”

© 2026, xxsyluslittlecrowxx. dividers by @uzmacchiato

[rhenuvee]

Seventeen // Took My Bitterness and Made it Sweet [Brother's Best Friend! Phainon x f!reader]

Summary: One summer day when you were thirteen, your older brother Mydei brings a boy over to play. You don’t expect anything good out of boys, but somehow, the boy- Phainon, you learned his name was, seems to want to know you better and include you in everything. Every time you expect nothing and think he’s just here for Mydei, his guileless yearning to be closer to you continues for years. Your denial of feelings and Phainon’s easy and confident persistence seems to complicate whatever was within your heart even further. A/N + Warnings: Modern!AU, reader is introverted, reader is 1 year younger than Mydei and Phainon, LONG AF 21K WORDS IM SO SORRY, trig identities, Mydei slander (bc he's your brother), extremely self indulgent. I wrote half of these sections while I was in school, so apologies if there are inconsistencies in the writing Tagging the lovely @zozo-01 since she stuck with this ever since she tagged me in snippet sunday (Thank you Zo, I love you <3)

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Age: 13

At the young age of thirteen, you've already written off boys. They were smelly, mean, and dumb... you could go on. Which is why, when your brother Mydei brought home a friend for the first time, you were not expecting to like him.

It was a random summer afternoon when you were lounging in your room, listening to music while you draw. It wasn't long until you felt like you heard the front door open and close, along with an extra set of footsteps...? You thought you were hearing things- perhaps it was your mom who was walking. But just a second later, you heard an unfamiliar voice.

It's another boy, you think.

For a moment you forget the animosity you have against boys. The memory of your brother dejected and purposely isolating himself last year rings clearly in your mind. Your family had left your town of Castrum Kremnos and moved to the more populated city of Okhema to get a fresh start, especially because of the grief caused by your father. However, this also meant that Mydei would be leaving his friends.

Hephaestion, Leonnius, Perdikkas, Ptolemy, Peucesta.

Though you have not had many interactions with them, you knew they were good friends and meant a lot to your brother, even if he didn't want to admit it. A dull ache lingered within your household despite moving to the free and prosperous Okhema.

So you decide to give this mystery boy a pass.

Your tablet flashes, signaling low battery, and suddenly you realize the predicament you're about to be in. Shit. You left your charger with Mydei after his broke, so now you have to go in his room to ask for it.

Did you really have to go in? Your mind goes back and forth between saving your tablet and staying in your room and waiting it out. Looking back in your room, avoiding interacting with the mystery boy and your stinky brother seemed really tempting. You had hobbies! You could definitely find something else to pass the time. But a part of you can't help but be curious, and before you know it, your feet were dragging you to Mydei's room.

You walk as lightly as you could, trying not to alert them of your existence before you were ready to go in. The door was half open, and you hear the low murmur of their voices, along with the electronic sounds effects of what seemed to be punches or shooting. You gulp, overthinking of whether Mydei would even hear you over the video game noises. You knock anyway.

"Yeah?" Mydei's voice calls out. You breath a sigh of relief- at least he heard you. You grab your nonexistent courage and push the door to enter. Keeping your head down, your footsteps hover lightly on his floor as if you were sneaking in. And then your breath catches in your throat.

The mystery boy- A boy sits on the edge of Mydei's bed beside him with a controller loosely in his hand. He looks up at you the same time your brother does, and you get a full glimpse of his face. He was sitting, but he looked around the same height and age as Mydei. White messy hair framing his face, bright blue eyes, and an even brighter smile. Why was he smiling at you?

And was that the scent of wheat?

Your brain barely catches up to the overload of the mystery boy, but Mydei fortunately snaps you out of your trance.

"What do you want?" Mydei's voice is curt and straight to the point as always. You catch the mystery boy stifling a laugh, nudging your brother and whispering something like "how gentle", to which your brother nudges him back subtly. You don't know why but you feel self conscious all of a sudden.

"I-I need the charger." You mutter. Ew. You become aware of how awkward your voice comes out.

"It's on the desk." Mydei replies, quickly focusing back on the video game. You cringe. The desk? The one all the way across the room? Where you'd have to pass this weird smiley boy? Your anti-social self loathes this, and you wish you could cuss at Mydei for not getting the message but alas there is a guest. 

Men. They certainly stress women out. Even your own brother.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you swiftly cross your brother's bed to snatch the charger. Okay, you did it, just quickly in and quickly out, easy right-

"Hey."

The white haired mystery boy calls out to you, and you flinch like those cartoon robbers caught in the police lights.

"I'm Phainon." He says with a smile. "Do you wanna play with us?"

Your pupils dart quickly between the boys and Mydei's TV, where some sort of FPS game was paused. The thought crosses your mind so fast, you almost flinch in disgust at the thought of playing this violent video game with boys. Yuck!

"I- what?" You grimace, though it comes out meek. Phainon only continues smiling, lifting his controller to gesture at the game.

"We're about to enter a lobby, you can join us if you like." Phainon only continues smiling, lifting his controller to gesture at the game. The invite makes your heart beat faster- though you're not sure if you should be flattered or weirded out that you're being included. Mydei seems to voice the latter.

"Why would we do that?" Mydei's words come out blunt as usual, though you don't fault him for it because you also couldn't find a reason to join them, especially when you didn't really enjoy your brother's video games. More importantly, you felt like it was gonna be awkward.

"Um, I'm okay. I don't really like shooter games." You reply, slowly backing off with the charger in hand. Weirdly, Phainon perks up more, still talking to you.

"Then we could play something else. Do you like Mario Kart? Or Party?" Phainon suggests. You and Mydei both give him a grimace like true siblings.

"We don't have to include my sister in everything." Mydei says. From the way he said it, you felt like Mydei briefly told Phainon about you, which doesn’t help with your face burning at the thought of being mentioned.

"I-It's fine, really. You guys play." You say, taking the last word to finally exit. You're at the threshold of Mydei's doorway when Phainon steals the last word, calling out one last thing.

"Maybe next time then."

You almost flinch again, your steps abruptly stopping, and shit. It signalled that you heard him, so now you had to answer. You slowly turn, putting on a smile.

"Yeah... sure." Your answer wasn't confident, and you realize you might have come off as fake- like you were putting on a customer-service smile with an empty promise.

And yet, Phainon- this smiling boy, continues to beam at you like he actually believed you.

You don't trust yourself to not embarrass yourself any further with that interaction, so you you quickly pull your brother's door closed and retreat back to the safety of your room. You sit on your bed, charger clearly forgotten and your posture rigid as a soldier as you reflect on what the hell just happened.

Your heart was beating too fast. Too fast, but... not for a boy, right? 

It's ridiculous, you think. Phainon was the guest here- a stranger. There was a supposed to be a sense that playing video games with them was some sort of uncharted territory when he was your brother's friend. But it’s like it has been reversed. 

You've met boys before, obviously in your elementary school. They were smelly, mean, and dumb... loud, reckless, and careless... Yet Phainon was strangely not like them. And you were sure as hell knew that none of them ever looked at you like that- like it was normal for you to be there, or that it made sense for you to join. You press your palms to your face, as if wiping it would get rid of your overcomplicated thoughts.

This is so stupid.

Somehow, you get the feeling that you weren't going to forget him.

A few hours later, you realize you actually aren't going to forget the boy. Especially when you find him setting up the dinner table.

Your mother called you and Mydei down that evening for dinner, and you pause for a moment in the hallway as you see the white haired boy still here. You caught a glimpse of him just washing his hands, meaning he was definitely staying to eat. He answers your mother with a cheerful "yes ma'am!" and you make a face- both at the thought of Phainon joining your family for dinner, and the fact that he just called your mother "ma'am".

Your mother calls you and Mydei to set the table as usual. You realize how giddy Phainon looked as you saw him from the corner of your eye, sleeves rolled up and posture upright like he was ready for your mother’s cooking. He suddenly realizes you too.

"Oh, hi again." Phainon's eyes blink at you as he turns away from drying his hands.

"Hi..." You quietly nod to him, and he smiles at you again. By this point, you felt that he could probably tell that you were weirded out by him a little- being a guest and all yet being so comfortable with people he just met. You don't even remember the last time you were comfortable in your own skin. And yet here you were, standing awkwardly at your own dinner table in your own house, while this random boy acts like he belonged here all this time.

For once you latch onto the task of setting the table gratefully, busying yourself with forks and knives in order to not to pay the obvious elephant in the room any mind. You definitely don't realize the way he kept glancing over, and you certainly don't realize how he pulled your chair out for you.

Once dinner was set, your family takes their seat and starts on a nice home-cooked meal. Your mother gets curious and starts asking Phainon questions, since she too realized this was the first friend Mydei brought home. You keep your head down mostly, as you weren't really a part of this conversation. Funny enough, Mydei stays quiet too. Birds of a feather you were.

"How long have you two been friends?" Your mother asks towards your brother and Phainon. Though of course, Phainon takes the lead and answers.

"Since the beginning of the school year. Mydei has been helping me with studying for history." Phainon beams, his head nudging towards Mydei to acknowledge him. "He's really good in that class."

Mydei grumbles something unintelligible in response. It's weird... weird how Phainon's praise for your brother warms your heart. You knew that your brother was good at history, that much was true. But nobody was perfect (and as his sister, you knew firsthand of Mydei's particularly annoying traits such as his attitude). Phainon goes on about how he met Mydei from how he admired Mydei's competitiveness in gym class, but Mydei of course mistaken it for rivalry. You internally cringe at the thought of more boys being over competitive in sports.

Still, the sound of Phainon talking about your brother like he was perfect was... different somehow, genuine- even though that wasn't part of the question your mother was asking. You poke mindlessly at your food, a small smile slipping out as you recognize the hidden weight behind Phainon's polite answers.

Your mom continues to pester Phainon and Mydei with questions, with Phainon answering and your brother contributing the bare minimum. At one point you swear you see your mother rolling her eyes fondly at Mydei's lack of answer. You knew she likely shared the same sentiment as you- thinking how your brother was secretly happy for making a new friend.

"What grade are you going to?" Phainon's voice interrupts your thoughts, and you blink up, realizing that he was suddenly talking to you.

"Oh- eighth..."

"Eighth? Cool. Are you looking forward to high school?"

"I don't know..."

"That's okay. I think high school is gonna be fun! What's your favourite subject?"

"Um, art."

"That's awesome." Phainon says it like he actually means it, which makes your grip on your fork tighten. "Do you draw a lot?"

"Yeah I guess..."

"What kind of stuff do you draw?" Holy moly. You start cringing more, feeling some sort of embarrassment as Phainon presses on with the questions. He really wasn't letting this conversation go.

"Um... just things..." You shrug. You’re not really sure you want to say out loud that you draw silly anime characters at the dinner table. There's a pause, where Phainon just nods at you. It's like deja vu, where you expected the talk to end here. And yet-

"I'd like to see them sometime." He says, smiling. Your heart seems to catch on to the deja vu, doing that strange little jump again like before.

You don't understand it.

You don't understand why he wants to know more about you, or why he's being so polite, or why he keeps trying to include you, or why he's smiling so much. Why it ironically feels physically hard for you to look him in the eye. Going to a friend's house for the first time is typically awkward, is it not? But nothing seemed difficult for Phainon. In fact, everything seemed relatively easy for him.

Dinner continues with your brother and Phainon bantering and bickering like boys do while your mother smiles fondly. Once you finish, you walk quickly back to your room, wanting to be back in the safety within your walls, where you will not be bothered by some stinky-

“Hey!” Phainon calls out to you, and you flinch, stopping in your tracks. His footsteps pad across the floor, with Mydei silently beside him. “I still don’t know your name.”

“It’s (Y/N)…” You reply softly. You would think that your brother would have introduced you, but alas there he stands, anti-social and nonchalant like all boys try to be. Well, almost all boys.

“Well (Y/N), do you wanna play Mario Party with us?” There was the question again, but rephrased with your name with the addition of a more family friendly video game. He was purposely trying to include you, wasn’t he? You pause for a moment, thinking. Phainon grins, pressing on. “Your brother told me that you need help unlocking a minigame in the two versus two mode.”

“But there’s three of us…”

“Yeah. It can be me and you versus Mydei.” Phainon remarks casually. Before you could quirk an eyebrow at the strange pairing, Phainon continues. “Your brother already claimed he would still win.”

And it’s strange, you think. How the stars are perfectly aligning, so much so that it almost seems suspicious. Something prickles at your pride. Mydei has always been competitive with you, but to be honest, playing Mario Party with your brother has started getting boring. Here Phainon was, offering a fresh perspective by fueling Mydei’s competitive spirit and wanting you to join.

You blink blankly at your brother. “…You wouldn’t win partnered with an AI.”

“Yeah? Wanna bet?” Mydei growls immediately after. It earns a chuckle from Phainon, as he gets a first hand experience of you and Mydei being essentially the same person, and furthermore a glimpse of your own sarcasm against your brother. Phainon looks over at you, beaming.

“So, what do you say?”

You look at the boy, whose posture remains hopeful that you would join. Your stomach fluttered again- why? At this point you realize how bad it would be if you declined him again like you subtly dismissed him before. But he was... intelligent, you think. Intelligent in how he phrased his words.

"Partners?"

Phainon is already pushing Mydei's door open like he owned the place (while the real tenant grimaces). His other hand is outstretched to you, and somehow you see the change now. The invite was no longer a push, but a sign of him waiting. This was weird. He's too warm... too-

"Yeah." Before you knew it, a smile slowly spreads on your face, and you take his hand. He somehow lights up even more, giggling with you as he tugs you into Mydei's room, with the shared goal of beating your brother. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 15

Two years ago was when you’d say you officially became friends with Phainon: That day he was first invited to your house by Mydei.

You remember playing Mario Party with the boys, which turned into a whole marathon of video games. But you also ended up learning about Phainon. How he actually lives very far from school, in the countryside of Aedes Elysiae. Little things like how he wanted a video game console, but found it useless if he no one to play with- hence why he was so excited to get the invite from Mydei to play video games at your house.

As you finally come into your own in high school, you don't freeze up anymore whenever Phainon comes over. He’s starting to get taller and his voice has lowered, but you barely realize it because of how often you see him. However, there was still the notion that Phainon was more of Mydei’s friend than he was yours. They were classmates first after all, but now that you knew him better, you felt like being in his presence more. 

"Mydei, I need help with homework." You blurt out as you dump your bag on the couch as you come home. Mydei and Phainon were already there, sitting at the dining table, heads buried in their notebooks. Mydei clicks his tongue.

"What homework?" Your brother grumbles, already dreading your request and dramatically setting his pencil down. Phainon peers over at you behind him.

"Trig stuff." You reply casually. Mydei lets out a groan.

"No."

"What?!" You shout, immediately getting defensive. In times like these, you're reminded how obnoxious your brother is. Not that you ever forgot. "I have a quiz soon."

"I'm busy studying for my own test. Figure it out yourself." Mydei says. You catch the subtle sound of Phainon snickering behind your brother, and you get suspicious of whether he was laughing at you. Little do you know, the white haired boy caught a glimpse of Mydei's notes- messy and full of frustrated scribbles, because he too was struggling with trig stuff. Of course, he didn't want to admit it.

"Mydei, please. You're not saying no because you suck at trig too right?"

"No, I'm not." Mydei replies curtly. It was a lie of course. Again- birds of a feather you and Mydei were... both struggling with maths. You thought you could at least rely on your brother since he had at least a year of experience. But still, he waves you off. "Ask someone else."

You were about to open your mouth to argue, when-

"I can help." Phainon leans out for you to see him, offering his services easily. A beat of silence goes by until you and your brother both shout what?! without any shame.

What was it you said earlier? You don't freeze up anymore whenever Phainon comes over?

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle again, and you start feeling self conscious... like when you were thirteen meeting Phainon for the first time. Your notebook and past quiz that were prepared in your hands, slowly hide themselves behind you as if to back off. You knew your notes were messy- maybe even more than your brother's. But worst of all, your equations were half finished, red marks on your previous quiz with see me after class as the cherry on top.

You really don't want Phainon seeing this.

“I-It’s fine… I don’t want to bother you guys.” You try slowly backing away, hoping the boys would get the message that you changed your mind. Phainon only continues to smile, disregarding your stance.

"It's okay. I don't mind." He shrugs, already walking to the other side of the dining table so you could sit next to him. Shit.

Your brother rolls his eyes, seeing this as a sign for him to leave and study in peace. Wait, Mydei- He wasn't supposed to leave you alone with Phainon! He's so stupid!

"Whatever, I’m going somewhere else to work. Just don't fail her." Mydei glares one last time before dragging his stuff into his room and slamming his door like a princess, leaving you alone with Phainon.

"I won't." Phainon says simply, his arm resting on the back of the chair. He looks up at you, who was still standing there, and you flinch.

"Do you wanna come over here?" He asks. Your cheeks go warm at his... gentleness. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but there was a tiny part of his voice that sounded like he was teasing you. Still, you walk over, stiff as cardboard as you awkwardly sit in the chair next to him with your disappointing notes in hand. Immediately, you become aware of how close Phainon was, so you unconsciously shift your chair a little further from him, purposely distancing yourself. An awkward silence occurs for a good minute, until Phainon notices something and laughs quietly, looking at you.

“...What?” You stammer, your pupils flickering back and forth between him and the floor.

“Hm?” Phainon tilts his head as if he was an innocent puppy, though you knew he was far from innocent. Did he have to keep staring at you like that?

“What are you looking at?” You ask almost curtly, attempting to shoo him away.

“What am I looking at?” Phainon repeats your question with a knowing grin. 

God, why did Phainon have to be so stupid? He truly didn’t know the effect he had on you- making you forget how to speak despite him coming over to your home for years and teetering off embarrassing yourself whenever he spares you a little glance.

But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? It wasn’t just a small glance to you. 

Things like going the extra mile to help you with something you struggled with, being persistent in including you… Realistically, it didn’t mean anything special but oh, at the same time it definitely did. Why else did you start staring at the mirror for longer, wondering if you should fix your hair a little before going down? Why else would you think about changing into something that makes you look less like a bum? It was a little crazy now that you think about it. Mydei would definitely say something about it for sure. Something like “Why the fuck did you change your clothes when we’re in our own house?” to which was a valid argument- one that you didn’t want to have. So you usually end up doing nothing, but overthinking it anyway.

Phainon speaks again, seeing as you’ve seem to have gone silent for some reason. Thankfully, it stops your intrusive thoughts, but in turn makes your cheeks heat up a little.

“I’m looking at you because you’re sitting so far from me.” Phainon’s mouth curves upwards, his tongue teasingly between his teeth. He gives a playful pout. “Are you scared of me?”

You watch as Phainon grin turns into a playful pout. You realize what he meant with you sitting all the way at the end, accusing you of avoiding him or something.

Still, you deny it. “N-No…”

“Well then-“ Phainon lets out a soft grunt, and you get a little startled when you notice his foot hooking through the leg of your chair to bring you closer. That home-y scent of wheat wafts through your nose as soon as he got you where he wants. 

"Okay, show me what you've got." He says. You cringe, still cosplaying as cardboard as you slowly slide your embarrassing notes and past quiz over. He looks it over silently, and you hold your breath.

"Hey," Phainon looks at you with a certain softness, something you definitely weren't expecting after your atrocious quiz score. "This isn't bad."

"I-It's not...?" You think he's making fun of you. Phainon shakes his head with a smile.

"No. To be honest I struggled with trig identities too. I think you're overthinking it, let me show you how I did it..."

Phainon teaches you how to approach the math questions you struggled on, and you start questioning whether he was lying about struggling on this too. From how he was explaining it to you, it's like he never struggled at all.

Then again, the only tutor you've known is your brother, so your standards are pretty low.

It's somewhat hard to concentrate as Phainon points out certain things and watches you do questions. He's close- really close. He's leaning towards you. Your shoulders would be brushing if you hadn't purposely leaned away. It was so much so that you notice the little crease in his brows and the way he bites his lip when he's concentrating.

"See? You're getting it."

What was this...? It’s literally just Phainon. Your heart starts doing those stupid little flips again, but you’re not sure if it’s just your brain mistaking it as nostalgia. Because it was the same way he was kind and patient with you two years ago. The same way he stayed for you at your dinner table despite you being difficult. The same way the smell of his hometown consumed you. The same way he continued to smile at you like it costs him nothing.

"What?" Phainon asks, softly glancing at you. You snap out of your trance and realize you were staring at him- daydreaming. How embarrassing.

"N-Nothing." You reply too quickly, ducking your head. Still, your eye flits back to him to peek, and he was smiling anyway. A warm feeling courses through your body, and you suddenly feel extremely comfortable. An idea comes up. "Can you help me with my English essay after?"

Phainon laughs, indulging you. "You need help with that? I thought your brother would be better with words."

You make a face at him, thinking, since when Mydei was good with poetry?

"You know- words like fuck and dumbass." Phainon clarifies. You laugh, realizing he was being sarcastic.

"That's exactly why I need help." You explain, and Phainon chuckles with a nod. 

While you were being tutored, you shyly asked him why the heck he was even doing this- why he was willingly tutoring you when he had his own things to do, and didn’t have to in the first place. He only smiled a little, saying, “I like helping you.” You sputtered, exasperated as you questioned him, not being able to wrap your head around why that was a valid reason. But the implication was forgotten because he just made things easy for you. It doesn’t pass Phainon’s mind, but to be honest, he didn’t mind.

At some point, your eyes start drooping and getting heavier. Your textbook and notebook pages get blurrier. You feel your neck giving up on you, making your head lurch forward a few times. 

“You falling asleep?” A soft voice whispers in your ear. 

“No…” Even the dullness of your tone betrays you. 

Phainon chuckles, and you get a little embarrassed. No, you cannot fall asleep at this point. Not when Phainon was right beside you. What if you drooled? Or snored? Mydei was always complaining about your snoring, and even though you were in denial, you get self conscious at what could happen. You force your eyelids open, but they only get heavy once more. 

Before you knew it, your head fell to rest on a squishy pillow. The pillow briefly shakes beneath your cheek just before you passed out. How embarrassing- you eventually did use him as a pillow. You need to get up, but you don’t. It was mostly because you were tired, but perhaps a teensy tiny part of it was because you never wanted to leave.

You were drifting deeply into dreamland for who knows how long, and by how soundly you were sleeping, it seemed like you never wanted to wake up. That is, until something soft taps at your shoulder. Your eyes don’t really open until the tap happens a second time. 

“There you are.” A soft chuckle reaches your ears, and you finally realize the predicament you were in. 

The first thing you saw was Phainon, and you realized that he was sitting much closer than expected, and close enough that you could make out the little crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he smiled down at you.

“Hi.” He says again, softly greeting you, seeing as you haven’t fully woken up. Your brain seemed to be blissfully empty in this moment, simply savouring the view without informing your body to move. It doesn’t last long though, since Phainon slowly tries to extract himself from you without jostling you too much. “Was my lesson really that boring?”

You don’t even have the energy to respond, your eyes barely opening, though you hear Phainon’s voice fading in and out.

“I have to go now. (Y/n)-” Phainon chuckles sheepishly as he attempts to pull his sleeve caught from under your weight. “(Y/n), you need to wake up for me. Your brother’s gonna get mad at me again.”

“Mmph- y-you’re leaving now?” You suddenly scramble to fix your hair, sitting up properly to look at Phainon who was already reaching for his jacket. He turns back to you with a smile.

“It’s late.” He simply says. And he was right. As you looked outside, you could see the sky already pitch black. Just how long were you out for? What time did you fall asleep? Did you really lay on Phainon’s shoulder for that long? The thought makes you blush. You glance down at your forgotten trig homework, and see a bunch of sticky notes written with arrows and small notes for each question.

“Oh.”

Phainon seems to notice the mortification slowly creeping on your face at your brilliant response. He laughs under his breath. 

“I’ve written down some notes for the last few questions you had. I hope they’re helpful in some way.” Phainon seems to be in deep contemplation, like he was thinking back to his notes and hoped they sufficed. He decides not to overthink it or potentially stress you out even more. So he smiles and waves, heading towards your door. “See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight…” You managed to squeak as he left. 

As your front door clicks shut, you collapse forwards on the table, simply staring at your scattered homework in silence. The living room felt strangely warm despite Phainon having already left. The scent of wheat lingered, his presence lingered, the half empty bowl of snacks, the blanket draped over you and the armrest. The feeling of his shoulder beneath your cheek. 

Mydei casually walks down the stairs, his eyes flickering between the door and you, and you flinch. He leans forward on the table, looking down at you with the same arms-crossed, unreadable expression on his face. Though it was the same perpetual look of mild judgment he always gave, this time you felt like he could be suspecting something else.

“What…?” You say with a hint of attitude in your tone, side-eyeing your brother who clearly had something on his mind. You hated when Mydei did this. 

“Nothing.” Mydei shrugs, reaching forward for the now stale popcorn. The silence continued to stretch, making you uneasy. “...Were you sleeping on his shoulder?”

“I- No…“ Smooth.

Mydei’s eyes narrow at you, getting skeptical from your very convincing answer. Fortunately, he scoffs and doesn’t address the secret you thought he was going to, but unfortunately, he decides he’s not going without a jab at you. “God, sleep on your bed next time.” 

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, realizing that Mydei did indeed catch you sleeping on his best friend’s shoulder.

“S-Shut up Mydei!” You knowing he was teasing you for drooling on Phainon’s shoulder. 

Mydei doesn’t even breaking eye contact with you. His gaze remains fixed, blinking blankly like he’s expecting something yet also wanting to ask something. You’re caught between deciding to stay silent or throwing another pillow because you knew he was teetering off pointing out a certain something between you and Phainon. Why couldn’t you talk to your brother about other things? Trying to have a normal conversation with Mydei was like trying to argue with a brick wall that occasionally made blunt remarks and observations about your life. 

“You seem happy.”

You stared at Mydei, your heart skipping beats- though you weren’t sure if it was because you were anxious or the fluttery feeling of actually admitting what Mydei was likely referencing. The thing about having a sibling was that you would be fluent in their lies, but the biggest problem was that they would be fluent in yours too.

Because later that night, after denying everything to Mydei which you were sure sounded suspicious- you realized the thought had finally taken shape.

Fuck. You looked forward to seeing him. And it’s not like you haven’t, but after months of avoiding the question altogether, you slowly started to come to the terrible conclusion that your heart was craving his presence. There was no way you were going to get rid of the thought since you acknowledged it.  

You knew Phainon didn’t come here to tutor you, and he too had work of his own and things to study for. Phainon had stayed. And even though you made him explain the concept four times, and continued cringing over trying not to break over trigonometry, your previous feelings of thinking you were a bother eventually seemed to disappear. He was patient with you, and never sounded annoyed, which in turn ruined your life in the way that you never stopped thinking about this moment. 

You felt like you could depend on him comfortably without judgement or impatience. And he would let you take up as much of his time as you asked him for. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 17

Ever since that night when Phainon helped you with your homework, you felt like you could be more carefree around him. Before, Phainon was just Mydei’s friend. Just a boy, who was annoyingly good at everything and nice in a casual way that easily made people gravitate towards him.

At seventeen years old, you think you know better. You were an adult, applying to universities, and thinking about careers.

You think you've matured. Which is why crushing on Phainon feels childish now.

You've admitted it internally in your head, that you've had a crush on him. A baby one at least. Over the years, you've watched him grow and you considered him a friend like your brother did. But somewhere throughout the multiple times he came over to your house, you found yourself finding every part of him attractive. It wasn’t your fault though, that he hasn't stopped with his whole golden boy persona. He was good at everything, liked by everyone, and fine, you'll admit he's cute. But he's eighteen now, already graduated and in university. So, you start seeing less of him.

And because you've matured, you pushed your silly little crush deep deep down early in the year.

Besides, there was a guy in your grade who you've been liking for a while now. You talked often with him, and he was funny and clever. You play the same video games, and share the love for art. He was super attractive too, and him teasing you lightly and seeking you out only made you fall harder. But you mistake the laughter and banter for warmth- for the kind of connection you yearned for. 

Near the end of the school year, you finally admitted it to the boy. Your feelings, out on a plate that trembles from your shaking hands and pounding heart and... he laughs.

"Wait, you thought I was serious?"

The words hit you and you instantly become hollow. You don't even remember the rest of what he said. Something about how he never saw you in that way. But all you could focus on was the little scoff, the awkwardness, the laugh. The humiliation replayed in your head all day, and you realized too late that the teasing was never friendly, and that your feelings were more disposable than you thought.

By the end of the school day, you feel nauseous. Ironically, not from the pit in your stomach but from how you didn't know how to keep your face from not looking nauseous.

And to make things worse, you had to keep a not-nauseous face in front of your brother... and Phainon, who were both picking you up after school.

You think you were doing a good job- purposely walking three steps behind them and looking down, lest they see you secretly wiping your tears. But as the three of you walk to the bus station, Mydei's eyes widen as he catches the sight of your reddening nose.

"You okay?" Mydei asks suddenly. You blink up, and fuck- even your eyes couldn't hide how puffy they felt.

"I'm fine." You reply. But your voice is croaky, and your sleeve suspiciously in front of your nose.

"You're crying." Mydei observes.

"I said I'm fine." You turn away defensively. Mydei's jaw gets tight, and he steps closer to you.

Panic and anger starts flaring up between you and Mydei, the two of your snapping and cutting off each other. 

"What happened."

"Nothing."

"Who did it then?"

"Nobody."

"I know it wasn't fucking nobody."

"Just drop it Mydei!"

Phainon steps in gently with his hands raised between you and your brother. "Hey, let's just get to the station, okay?"

You almost forgot Phainon was there. You didn't want to know what he was thinking, and in the moment you didn’t care. Mydei glares at you, growling as he turns to keep walking to the station, reluctantly following Phainon's advice. You follow the boys silently, your heart hammering. It's embarrassing you think, how you've just argued with your brother out in the open like a child. You were eighteen for fucks sake.

The bus ride was painfully quiet between the three of you, and you didn't dare look up from your feet. After a while, Mydei speaks again.

"Was it that guy?" Your brother's voice low, but clearly aimed at you. You start getting nauseous again.

"No." You lie. It was small and desperate. You almost cry when you see your brother shaking his head from the corner of your eye. Was he disappointed in you? For lying? Because of the guy in your class? You weren't sure. Still, you knew you should never have told him. Mydei says nothing.

When you finally reach your home, you don't wait to rush straight to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You drop onto your bed, face flat into your sheets as you sob into them, hoping they muffle the sound. You feel so stupid.

Meanwhile, Mydei stomps into the house, shoulders rigid with anger as he violently sits on the couch, his fingers pinching his brows. For once, Phainon is nervous to enter further into your house. Even with uncertainty and a small ache in his chest, he approaches Mydei.

"Are you okay...?" He asks, slowly putting his bag down. A long silence passes, and Mydei doesn't even look up at him.

"Do whatever you want." Mydei says, not even answering Phainon's question. Okay- so obviously Mydei (and you) weren't okay. Phainon sits beside him anyway. He eventually convinces your brother to go wash his face to cool down.

An hour passes, and Phainon realizes he was alone. Actually, he realized it a lot longer ago, when he heard the sound of the bathroom door closing... and then Mydei's own door.

This should be awkward for him. Being promised a normal hangout but now being left alone in a house that isn't his, where both his friends were upset. Against his better judgment, he softly walks down the halls to your door. He hesitates a little before knocking lightly.

"Hey... are you okay…?" He asks.

On the other side of the door, you gulp, swallowing your sobs for the nth time. You stay silent, both from not knowing what to say and not wanting to face him.

"I-I don't need to come in." Phainon continues cautiously, and you keep quiet. "I just wanted to know if you were okay..."

You shouldn't be replying to him, not now. Even so-

"I'm not." Ew. Your voice comes out watery and snotty. Weirdly enough, something in Phainon's chest breathes a sigh of relief at hearing your voice.

"Can I sit with you?" He asks immediately after. "We don't have to talk."

You hesitate again. Every nerve in your body is telling you no- that you should keep the door locked and not let him or anyone see you like this. But Phainon's voice was gentle, just like you've always known, and- ...this is so dumb. 

"...Fine." You mumble, creaking your door slightly open.

Phainon immediately pushes the door wider. His heart sinks when he sees you with red swollen eyes and hunched shoulders. But you don't even notice- in fact the only thing you do notice is the ghost of a hopeful smile just before he crushes you with a hug.

"Hey," He murmurs, as if greeting you after not seeing you for a while. "I've got you."

You stiffen for a second. The hug wasn’t even that tight, his grip light and loose like he was afraid of breaking you. His hold remained respectful, and so you let yourself melt into him, chin resting on his shoulder even if it was for a few pathetic seconds.

He pulls away eventually and gestures for you to sit back on your bed while he sits on your chair. You’re hoping Phainon doesn’t notice the disgusting tissues piling up in your trash can.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” He asks softly. And it’s really none of his business. But at this point you’re desperate and you’ve already let him in your room. So, you tell him.

You tell him everything despite the moments making your face hot with humiliation. From how you thought your shared interests and teasing with the guy meant something, to how you stupidly convinced yourself it was mutual. Somewhere along the line you also slowly realize how delusional you must have been. The boy simply didn’t like you because he didn’t see you in that way- no fault in that. But was it so bad to think that something could have came from it?

You shakily recall how much you trembled during your confession, voice and body and all. It should have been a sign since then. So, the answer is yes.

“I feel so stupid.” You blurt out, rubbing your eyes again. “

“Don’t say that,” Phainon coos softly. “It takes guts to confess. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

“You are…?” You sniffle.

“I thought he would have liked you too.” He explains matter of factly. “Anyone with the same dynamic would have.”

Suddenly, a bitter type of anger twists within your stomach.

I thought he would have liked you too. Anyone would have.

Phainon’s words were kind, but you felt that they were too kind for the utter stupidity you subjected yourself to. You think about how some of your classmates knew of your playful rivalry with the boy and started encouraging it. You think about the nights you spent up texting your friends, secretly giggling and squealing over every little interaction and replaying conversations you had with the boy. You think about how much time you wasted.

And then it hits you- how stupid you look right now. Crying, eyes swollen, puffy nose, and your voice all watery and wobbly… with Phainon watching all of it. Heat starts flooding your face again, and before you knew it the bitterness was tumbling out of your mouth.

“You don’t know anything.” You mutter quietly. But Phainon hears it.

“What-“

“You don’t.” You stand up suddenly, your change in demeanour now prevalent. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

No wait-

Your seething words get to Phainon, the corner of his eyes turning downwards, heart aching. You immediately feel the guilt and shame, but it’s too late. 

“I’m not.” Phainon replies quietly. Somehow, his tone was normal- unaffected even after the bitterness from you. For a second your heart wants to double down. But your words tell a different story.

“Yes, you are.” You refuse to make eye contact with him, but your message remains clear. “Just- Just get out. Please.”

There’s a pause where a small part of you hoped that Phainon would stay. But of course, your words have already left your mouth and told him otherwise. Phainon stands up, a deep sigh coming out of him. He nods once with a bittersweet smile as if accepting something he doesn’t want to.

“Okay… I’ll give you space.” Phainon says softly. He hesitates at your door for a bit. “I’ll be outside if you still want to talk…”

Phainon finally leaves, making sure to close your door for you. Almost immediately, you start crying again, though the embarrassment lingers longer than the tears. Curled within your blankets, your mind can’t help but replay the moment, finding a new detail to hate each time. You shouldn’t even be crying this much. Even as you found yourself liking this boy throughout the school year, you internally told yourself to prepare for the chance of heartbreak. You couldn’t expect everything to be a happy ending, right? Yet as you become aware of the sorry state of yourself now, it seems to be more painful.

Because maybe, a small foolish part of yourself thought that he might say yes. 

The more you thought about it, the more humiliating this whole thing felt. The butterflies, the daydreams, the hopeful little fantasies you built in your head- how arrogant were you to think someone would like you back? The answer should have been obvious from the beginning.

On the other side of the door, Phainon stands there for a moment with a heavy heart as he hears your muffled sobs and sniffles. He’s about to turn and walk back to the couch when suddenly- a familiar pair of footsteps approaching make Phainon snap up. Mydei.

The boys both look at each other with wide eyes, not knowing where to start. Phainon’s mouth opens though nothing comes out, while Mydei stands there with an unreadable expression and his arms crossed.

“I-I wasn’t- I mean- I was just…” Phainon trails off, not really making any sense.

“I know.” Mydei replies while letting out an exhale. Phainon’s half relieved but also half confused. He knew Mydei was quite protective of you, but he surprisingly wasn’t mad at him for talking to you after a meltdown. Mydei opens his eyes, but avoids looking towards your bedroom door. “Was it about that guy…?”

Phainon is torn between telling his best friend and respecting your privacy. It was hard when Mydei was already this perceptive- what else was there to hide?

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Phainon sighs with a meek smile. A neutral answer, yet it told Mydei everything he needs to know. Your brother doesn’t press on for information, only deeply exhaling again while walking towards the living room.

“I’m bad at this.” Mydei mutters, flopping on the couch. Phainon curiously trails after him. “You’re better than this than me.”

Phainon blinks, then rounds the couch to sit beside him. “That’s not true.”

“She talked to you, not me.” Mydei says flatly, rubbing his hands on his face. Phainon swears he saw the corners of Mydei’s eyes still recovering from redness(?) but he decides not to comment on it. He thinks back to your red eyes, and how he wished he could have comforted you more.

“I know you… never really liked that guy in the first place but,” Phainon says, giving a hopeful smile. “She needs you more than me. Even if she doesn’t say it.”

“And…? I’d just make things worse.” Mydei lowly protests. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Yeah, you probably would.” Phainon pokes at Mydei, and his head snaps towards him giving him a glare. Phainon chuckles, though he knew his friend would know that he was half joking. Phainon offers a weak smile. “But at least it meant you tried.”

A beat of silence hangs in the air, but it wasn’t heavy this time. 

“I’m sorry.” Mydei says, his voice low. Phainon’s ears perk up, unsure if Mydei really meant that.

“What did you say-”

“I said go home.” Mydei deflects, facing away from him. But even with the unsaid words, Phainon knew his friend had a lot of heart, and didn’t mean to cause this conflict and awkwardness. Mydei picks up Phainon’s bag and throws it at him. “I’ll talk to her later…”

And finally, Phainon breathes a sigh of relief, having a gut feeling that this would resolve itself soon enough.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 18, start of university

It’s been about almost a year since that argument you had with your brother about that stupid crush. 

Mydei did end up knocking on your door that night, and you had a talk. It wasn’t perfect by any means- there was still some frustration and shouting. Mydei kept telling you how he knew he should have trusted his gut on how that guy was bad. You kept telling him that it wasn’t his business, and that you could take care of yourself. You weren’t a little kid anymore.

Eventually, the anger fizzled out and Mydei remembers that the whole reason for this conversation wasn’t about being right. 

You both sit in silence for a while, until Mydei gives you an awkward side hug, murmuring about how that guy sucked. If it was anything you could agree on now, 

“You’re not serious about beating him up are you?” You ask incredulously.

“Yeah I am. Got a problem?” Mydei replies without an ounce of care. You roll your eyes.

“Um yes, there is a problem. An ethical one.” You say like it was obvious- because it was!

“Who gives a shit?” Mydei shrugs. You can’t help but laugh at Mydei’s straightforward yet completely honest answer, because truthfully you would probably think the same if it weren’t for repercussions. You knew you couldn’t change anything from what happened, though a part of the embarrassment still remains deep in your heart. You decide to do your best and move on- and more importantly, you didn’t want to argue with your brother, or stay mad at him for his way of thinking.

Later that night, you also made sure to text Phainon, and you get a reply back pretty quickly.

(Y/N): I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I really appreciate you coming to comfort me, even if I wasn’t accepting of it.  Phainon: There’s no need to apologize. I understand you were hurt.

For a moment you stare at the screen. Even with all these years knowing Phainon, his gentleness still astounded you.

Phainon: You’re tougher than you think. Always have been. 

You smile at the text. Stubborn would have been a better word, you think, especially with Mydei as part of the context. Still, this was the last time you saw Phainon before entering university, which made things slightly awkward. Things are resolved, but you still can’t shake off the fact that the last impression you had was bawling your eyes out in front of him, and then snapping at him right after. 

The summer passes quietly after that. You don’t see Phainon much since you were preparing to start your own journey in university. You were ready for things to change.

Well, most things. Mydei was still protective of you, and you suddenly see a (less nice) carbon copy of your mother following you into the post-secondary life. 

Make sure you lock your doors, I don’t care if you’re just going for a coffee down the street. And don’t walk home alone when you have night classes. Holy moly, it was barely even the first day and he was already giving you orders like it was boot camp. Still, you don’t fault him for it. You figured you’d catch yourself forgetting something like that eventually, since these seemingly “normal” procedures might not be the first thing you think of.

Speaking of your first day and Mydei- he insisted on picking you and your friend up after the orientation party. 

“Please don’t tell me that stupid mascot was there.” Mydei groans.

“It was.” You reply, giggling as you and your friend hop in the backseats.

“I thought they’d stop doing that, bringing him to all these campus events.” Mydei scoffs, then mumbles something about how the mascot was just dancing in a corner. Clearly the mascot was haunting his dreams.

“Hey, he’s doing his best.” A familiar voice laughs. 

Your nose catches onto the realization first, the familiar scent of wheat drifting past you as you shifted into Mydei’s car. You abruptly look up from tugging on the seatbelt and realize- oh. Phainon was here too in the passenger seat. Wait- he looks… different. He wasn’t completely unrecognizable but his voice got lower, and he seemed much more confident which was somehow possible.

Well this was unfair. What was that line you heard from that one video game again? “Doctor- you’re… huge!” And you think that because holy fuck he was huge. From what you could see, his arms got all bulked up with muscle, shoulders extending past the width of the passenger seat of your brother’s car. What the hell happened over one year? Phainon goes through puberty and he gets taller and hotter. You go through puberty and you get pimples and a menstrual cycle. Or in other words: fuck you I guess.

“Is that Phainon? The guy you mentioned?” Your friend whispers to you, which snaps you out of your trance.

“Wha- I mean yes-”

“He’s cute. Super cute.” She whispers with a knowing grin. You’re hoping her statement falls on deaf ears but to your dismay, Phainon turns around, and you finally see his handsome face and smug grin.

“Was I supposed to hear that?~” He asks, looking at you straight in the eye. It wasn’t even the first day yet and your brain was already getting fried. Over a boy of all things. 

“No.” You seethe, smacking your forehead at your friend’s whispering that could have been quieter. Phainon laughs.

“Don’t inflate his ego.” Mydei adjusts the rearview mirror, casually making a jab at Phainon. Though, it doesn’t really do anything when Phainon was still smiling. 

“So, did you ladies have fun?” Phainon asks smoothly, looking back again, addressing the both of you. Your friend doesn’t answer, and you somehow get the feeling that she wanted you to talk, making your face subconsciously heat up.

“Um, yeah I guess.” You say awkwardly. You don’t know why you get shy when you respond, slowly sinking further into the seats as you struggle to even look at him. Phainon’s the same he’s always been- warm smiles, teasing lilts to his tone just to get you to talk to him, the scent of wheat. Still, your friend nudges your arm, telling you that she too noticed your speechlessness in front of him. Something is different. He is different.

As the car ride goes on, it’s fairly silent. Even though Phainon was sitting in the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but feel aware of your surroundings- like if he was gonna turn around or ask you something again. You tell yourself it was just to prepare yourself if he decides to look at you again. You hate that your eyes trace over him. 

“Are you gonna start going out like this every weekend?” Phainon’s poses this question to you and your friend, though his eyes linger on you mostly. 

“I dunno… Why?” You inquire, your shoulders slightly tensing when you watch Phainon’s lips curve into a teasing grin again.

“Just curious,” He shrugs. “Maybe you’d be better than Mydei who stayed in his dorm all the time when he was in first year.” 

Mydei grumbles, giving Phainon a light shove as his friend giggles. 

“There’s nothing to go out so often for.” Mydei proclaims with his arms crossed. His eyes then flicker to you in the rearview mirror, deciding to attack you for no reason like every older sibling does. “You couldn’t even go out without getting lost."

“I’m an adult Mydei.” You protest with an eyeroll as your brother embarrasses you (though he really is just a worrywart).

“Debatable.” Mydei scoffs.

“Mydei!” You yell. Phainon chuckles watching your short banter, then cuts in himself.

“She can handle herself.” Phainon gives Mydei a reassuring smile. There it was again- just a small little boost of confidence, that stupid faith he had in you that casually made you lose it. Not this again.

Still, even as the car pulls next to the curb and you’re ready to flop on your bed and gossip with your friend all night and more importantly brush off these feelings-

“Bye!” Phainon rolls his window down, waving at you. “Don’t stay up too late!”

Your feel that tingle at the back of your neck as you’re stunned at how Phainon said that phrase, though you barely have time to process it. 

“Oh my god…” Your friend latches onto your arm, startling you for a second. She hunches over as she walks to your shared dorm together, looking at you with a knowing smile. “Are you gonna address the elephant in the room, or should I just say it?” 

“What are you talking about?” You ask in a monotone voice as you unlock your door. You were hoping it wasn’t about-

“Uh hello? This Phainon guy, obviously.” Your friend says with an eye roll as if the topic was plain as day. “You didn’t tell me you guys were a thing.”

“We’re not,” you sputter. “He’s just a friend. My brother’s friend to be exact.”

“Yeah? Well this friend looks pretty happy to see you.” She hums, clearly not convinced. You both walk over to your her bedroom where you sit to talk. You roll your eyes, though you couldn’t stop how your body unconsciously tried turning away from her to hide your face. “He literally turned around to talk to you every five minutes. Did you even know he was gonna come to your orientation to flirt with you?”

You sputter at her bluntness, also not liking the way you got flustered so easily by her observations. But now that you think of it, why did Phainon even come along just to join Mydei to pick you up after your orientation?

“That wasn’t flirting.” You argue, cutting the conversation short and not willing to entertain any more questions. “Anyway- are you gonna tell me about the drama that happened at prom or what?”

You and your friend end up chatting into the late hours. More importantly, you end up skillfully avoiding and not responding to that statement she made. Truthfully, your own thoughts terrify you. 

Deep down, a part of you knows that if Phainon was gonna keep talking to you like that- like he was teasing you, being all confident, and smiling and implying he wanted your company, you’re not going to be able to pretend it means nothing. 

You remember yourself one year ago, when you confessed to that boy in your school and how embarrassed you felt when he laughed and scoffed. You remember how dumb you felt for misreading things, and believing that it was something more. You can’t let yourself do those things anymore. 

Unfortunately for you, confidence looked really good on Phainon. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 18 (a few months later)

You think you settled into your classes and university life pretty well. Looking back at your orientation day, it felt a little ridiculous how much you spent worrying about Phainon’s perception of you. You were convinced that after you pushed him away that night when you were seventeen, that you had ruined everything. Or at least, that’s what you expected. You knew Phainon wasn’t the type to hold grudges or lie, but with the way he looked and talked to you that day, it was if he was entirely unaffected. 

As the semester goes by, you realized you were in your head too much after all. You were lingering outside with your friends, already complaining about a group project that was assigned when suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“Hey, found you.” 

It’s Phainon.

“Oh, hey.” Your eyes widen when you realize it’s him. Your eyes trail up to finally meet his gaze, which looked a little too pleased with himself. Was he even aware of how he somehow just became unfairly attractive over one summer? Meanwhile, your friends’ jaws drop at the same time when they notice him spawn out of nowhere, and immediately interpret this as a signal to move two meters away.

“How are classes going?” He asks with a calm smile. You suddenly get a sense of scale of how much taller he got, now that you were with him standing up and not in a car. It was slightly embarrassing to you, how he was hunched over slightly to talk to you better.

“Okay I guess,” You say, shrugging. “Getting busy.”

Your friends watch, half in awe and half-deadpanned as you give Phainon a boring answer. And still, he smiles, remaining engaged as he talks to you.

“Good, good… Do you already have plans for the break?” Phainon asks, almost sheepishly. 

“I dunno, probably staying home with Mydei…” You reply. Phainon seems to inhale a little deeper before speaking again.

“I know finals are coming up soon… but I wanted to revive an old tradition, if you’re game?” Phainon asks. You cock your head to the side, unsure of what he meant. “The winter market, back near your home.”

Ah, right. You do remember the winter market- one you went with Mydei and Phainon when you guys were younger. You guys were barely teenagers, insisting you could go out by yourselves, and end up spending a majority of it listening to your brother whine about the cold. Still, it was a much simpler and nostalgic time you considered a core memory. 

“Do they still do it?” You ask, your eyes widening at Phainon bringing up something so nostalgic out of the blue. “I don’t know if I could convince Mydei to go… At his grown age I think he’d still complain about the snow.”

“He would do that.” Phainon chuckles breathily, knowing Mydei’s behaviour as well as you. “But I already convinced him to go.”

“You did?” You ask, your eyes widening. You truly underestimated Phainon’s power.

“Well, he did grumble about it for a good five minutes…” Phainon admits, scratching the back of his neck. “But he said he wanted to bring some of our friends, if we were going.”

Mydei has friends?

“Oh… your other friends…” A part of your confidence crumbles at the mention of your brother’s and Phainon’s other friends. You want to go- though you hadn’t really thought of why your heart was urging you to. At the same time, you’re not sure if you’d want to be in a group with randoms you didn’t know. For all you know, they could be just as stinky as your brother! Your response turns slightly dismissive. “I don’t know… I’ll check with Mydei if he’s going first.”

“He will. And if he says no I’ll make him go.” Phainon gives a devious grin and a thumbs up. Your uncomfortable posture turns more relaxed and you smile, seeing exactly what this was- the same game you’ve been playing for years. He was trying to invite you again.

“I’ll think about it.” You say finally. Phainon smiles wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling like he subtly won you over. 

“I’ll hold you to it.” He leans closer with a wink, and you think your brain stops functioning for a good second. He then straightens, giving you a casual wave before walking off. “See you then.”

You watch as his figure walks away, spotting one of his friend groups nearby and jogging to them. And-

“Oh. My. God.” Oh yeah, you almost forgot that your friends are still standing there.

They squealed and whispered animatedly, all nosy about your ties with this hot guy and theorizing on whether you’ve been dating or if the flirting was normal. The bombardment of questions and exclamations obviously pointing out Phainon’s… Phainon-ness made it hard to conceal your nerves. Wait- why were you nervous again?

“You guys-” You attempt to compose yourself, but your stammer already gives out your subconscious feelings. “You guys are delusional. Just because some attractive guy happens to be talking to me doesn’t mean anything romantic.”

“So you think he’s hot.” One of your friends chides, completely ignoring your argument and latching on a random detail. You pause for a moment, your mouth agape as you realize the small slip you made. You shake your head dramatically to dismiss any other thoughts, but your roommate beats you to answering that.

“That’s (Y/N)’s friend, Phainon.” Your roommate so graciously corrects with air quotes around the word friend. You have no idea why your cheeks start to burn up when your roommate sarcastically addresses Phainon as your friend. Or was it just an intrusive thought that you seemed like more than friends? Either way, you hope your flustered expression is not seen by your friend group. “And I’ve been saying the exact same things to her, but she’s denying the… well- whatever’s going on between them.”

“He’s literally my brother’s friend.” You roll your eyes as you correct her, emphasizing the involvement of Mydei in this whole ordeal. “As in he’s known me since I was like thirteen?”

“Uh-oh, that’s dangerous~” One friend sing-songs with a smug grin. “That means he’s already got a leg up in the game. And judging by what I just saw, men like him are hard to find. Y’know- kind, hot, knows all your habits?”

You want to roll your eyes again and ready to deny all these claims your friends are making, but you find yourself replaying that whole conversation with Phainon just now. Knows all your habits? It was certainly dangerous but not in the same way your friend stated. It was more like dangerous in the way that you didn't want Phainon remembering every embarrassing thing you did in front of him and being close enough that he would bring it up. You think back to how he kept trying to include you and ask you questions about yourself, and when you realize the exact same thing just happened-

“Sooo, what did he talk to you about?” Your friend interrupts your spiralling, and the rest of the group turns their heads to you expectantly. 

“He asked if I wanted to go to a winter market thingy we have back home.” You say casually. Your friends squeal- making you groan at their overreaction. 

“And? What did you say?”

“I said I’d think about it.” You shrug. Your friends dramatically sigh with disappointment, their hands sliding down their faces. 

“Okay- why did you say you’ll think about it? This is like… textbook winter arc in a shoujo manga where the leads go on a date and share hot chocolate.” Your roommate says incredulously. You roll your eyes, ignoring her obvious teasing as prepare to explain.

“It’s not a date.” You protest with an exhausted sigh. “Mydei and a few of their friends are going too.”

“Damn, that’s a lot of wheels.” She scoffs. The rest of your friends giggle. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You deadpan, the joke going over your head.

“Nothing.” She beams. “Anyway, what’s wrong with other people going?”

“It’s gonna be awkward as hell…” You groan, gritting your teeth as you drag out the words. Being as introverted as you are, situations like this felt iffy for you. You really don’t want to seem difficult, but if he was inviting other people you didn’t know, you felt like the odd one out. 

“So?” She scoffs, grabbing you by the shoulders lazily. “He’s going. He wants you there. He basically just asked you out. Isn’t that enough reason?”

You pause for a moment, your roommate’s argument surprisingly getting to you. 

“...That doesn’t mean anything.” You finally utter. Your friends groan in unison.

“Oh shut up, he’s cute! Just let yourself like him!” 

Your eyes widen at the bold command. Your friends burst out laughing, enjoying your embarrassed reactions from this so called gossip. It really sucks how now you couldn’t contain the tiny smile that creeps onto your face. 

Before you knew it, your thoughts spiralled and you couldn’t stop thinking about how Phainon smiled at you, or how easily he was able to spot you here on campus. Your gaze flickers briefly to Phainon’s direction again, where he was talking with his friend group. You end up staring for too long because Phainon seems to feel your eyes burning into him, and he turns his head to look at you. You awkwardly look away, not knowing whether to play it off or keep looking- either way it was gonna make you suspicious. But Phainon doesn’t seem to think so, because he sends you a small smile and a wave before going back to speaking with his friends. 

And now, with your friends observations combining with your own buried feelings, you’re realizing how hard it’s getting to believe that he was just a friend. You thought you’ve convinced yourself that you saw him as strictly a friend of your brother’s that you just happened to get to know. You thought you weren’t going to make another silly mistake about a boy. But… you’d be lying if you said you never thought he was… kinda…-

“Also- don’t you think (Y/N)’s brother is kinda cute?~”

Ew. Your friends continue giggling, not caring that they just called your brother hot in front of you. Yup, daydream-y thoughts gone. 

Nothing else needs to be said when a guttural scream tears from your throat.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 18 (Winter break)

A couple weeks after stressing over exams, you find yourself standing in the middle of the winter market. For some reason, you felt like being here in and of itself was another way of admitting the real reason you were going- another way for your friends to tease you about you-know-who.

Speaking of friends, you realized something about Mydei’s friends.

You stuck to Mydei that night as you waited for the rest of the group to arrive. The market was glowing with the same warm lights and cold air, festive music drifting through the crowd. When they arrived, you greeted them all politely, offering a small smile. But you notice something-

All of Mydei’s friends were gorgeous.

What the fuck? As if it couldn’t make you any more anxious than you already were, they had to be stunning too. Even in the cold winter weather they dressed like they came out of a shoot for Vogue. You look at your own attire and feel hyperaware of how your coat makes you look like a puffball, and you tuck your hands in your pockets.

You see a girl with whitish hair that bleeds into a light purple, a cheerful girl with pink hair tied in two pigtails, a group of four that- wait… were those the twins? Stelle and Caelus? Oh god- you didn’t know they were a part of this hang out. Okay, it was probably dramatic to have this intrusive thought of hiding right now- but you couldn’t help it. They were well known across campus, and you couldn’t fathom them having connections to your brother of all people.

“Hey,” You feel somebody tap your shoulder and you turn around quickly- it’s Phainon. “You came.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You nod, breathing out. Your heart does that stupid flip again as you see Phainon- cheeks rosy already from the coldness, and flashing a toothy grin like it meant a lot to him. 

“He’s just a friend. My brother’s friend to be exact.” “That’s (Y/N)’s friend, Phainon.” You remember yours and your friends’ phrases being thrown around when Phainon was being introduced. You tell yourself again the same thing- that he’s just a friend, and this didn’t mean anything. That Phainon was just being friendly like he always was, and that whatever fluttering feeling you’re getting in your chest was just some naive hope that needed to be buried away again. 

The group moves slowly through the market, a safe distance enough to explore the booths and keeping sight of each other. You mostly stay near the back, hands tucked in your coat pockets as you listen to the group more than talking.

Before you could take notice of it, one of the girls falls into step with you.

“Hi! I don’t think we’ve met.” It’s the pink haired girl. “I’m Hyacine. You’re Mydei’s little sister, (Y/N), right?”

“Oh- hi. Nice to meet you.” You reply, adjusting your scarf to try and not seem anti-social. She then taps Mydei on the shoulder, who was walking in front of you two.

“Mydei, you’re sister is way cuter than you!” Hyacine clasps her hands theatrically and beams.

“Um… thanks?” Mydei blinks, then turns back. Hyacine laughs, and even you manage a small giggle. You kind of appreciate her humour (and jab at Mydei) and hope you didn’t come off as a stranger anymore. 

Before you could overthink it, Hyacine tugs you over to one of the booths, asking if you liked cute things. You stumble a little as the girl drags you to who knows where, though you reply saying you do. You notice the little unicorn plushie on her bag, and felt that it was on brand for her.

“Over here!” Hyacine giggles, not caring that you both were obviously straying from the group. There was no time to protest as you both weaving through the crowds until you both stop at one of the artist booths. You look around at what Hyacine wanted you to see, and see various keychains, stickers, and cute little handmade plushies lining the table. They were soft, mismatched coloured little creatures, sitting as if waiting for someone to adopt them.

“These are so cute!” Hyacine’s eyes light up, flickering from plush to plush. She silently hoped you felt enjoyment from this too. “Oh- and this one too.”

“They are.” You blink, picking one of the plushies up. It was a small pastel coloured star with a crooked smile. You thoughtfully turn it in your hands as you admire it. You wouldn’t lie if you said it didn’t intrigue you…

“Oh (Y/N)- that one matches your jacket!” Hyacine exclaims, pointing at the similarity.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it does.” You glance down at your attire and the coincidence that the plush you grabbed was the same colour. You didn’t even realize, but it was as if it was a subconscious gesture.

You stare down at the little star’s cute face and dangly legs. It was cute, and you certainly appreciate the maker’s craftsmanship. But you sigh, putting it down. “Mydei would probably scold me if I bought another one.”

“Aw, really? But he’s gonna be lonely. He even matches you!” Hyacine pouts, then shows you her unicorn plush. “You could match like me!”

You’re about to give an apologetic smile, but you think about the giant horde of stuffed toys you have at home and in your dorm and you feel like-

“What are we looking at?” Phainon’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn your head a bit too fast to where he was peering between you guys. Phainon bends slightly to take a closer look, snow dusting the shoulders of his coat. You get a whiff of his cologne and you have to look away. He looks relaxed in that unfairly easy way of his, even for doing something as basic as looking at stuff.

“We’re looking at stuffies!” Hyacine says joyfully. You shrink into your scarf a little, hoping Phainon doesn’t find it childish that you’re looking at plushies. “(Y/n) likes the star.”

“Hyacine-”

“The one with the little legs?” Phainon says simply. His eyes then flicker down to the one in your hand. “Were you gonna buy that one?”

“Oh-” You’re almost startled at how quickly Phainon noticed the plush in your hand, and you set it back down on the table. “Yeah- I mean… it’s cute, but I already have a lot of plushies at home.”

Phainon seems to be deep in thought as he stares between you and the star plush, but doesn’t say a word. You’re hoping he accepts your excuse and moves on. 

“Where were you? And everyone else?” Hyacine pipes up, tilting her head at Phainon.

“I was looking at the ceramics. I lost everyone else a while ago, but- oh, Cyrene said to regroup at the seats near the hot chocolate stand.” Phainon explains. A shiver runs through your spine as you briefly remember what your roommate said about this hangout being straight out of a shoujo manga. “You ladies can head back there when you’re finished. I’m gonna try looking for the others.”

“Okay, see you in a bit!” Hyacine waves to Phainon, then turns back to you. “Are you sure you don’t want to buy anything?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You say with a bittersweet smile. “I’ll probably forget about it in a few days.”

Hyacine nods, not wanting to pressure you. You turn away from the booth and walk with her towards the designated meeting place within the food vendor area. It was getting later, but from the way you were bumping shoulders with people, it felt like the amount of people were increasing. You both eventually find a few of the others at one of the picnic benches and join them to wait for the rest to arrive. You sigh, as you finally get a chance to sit down. Simply walking around a marketplace somehow exhausted you more than you thought.

For a moment, you close your eyes to rest from the clamour. Suddenly, you hear a little jingle coming from near you and you open them at the soft sound. 

“Hey.” Phainon stands in front of you, one hand holding a small fabric gift bag tied with sparkly string and tiny metal ornaments. From the lighting of this area, you could finally see the snowflakes clinging to his hair- even though they were the same colour. He sits down beside you, looking almost amused at your startled expression. 

“Hey, did you find everyone?” Hyacine leans over from the other side of the picnic table. 

“Most of them. I think Cyrene found the others I didn’t.” Phainon replies. On cue, Mydei and a few others walk past and take their own seats at the table. Phainon’s attention shifts back to you, still holding out the bag.

“What’s this?” You ask suspiciously taking the bag. You felt your heart beating faster, not believing it was what you thought it was. 

“For you.” Phainon replies simply, waiting to see your reaction.

“What did you get her?” Hyacine gasps with glee, leaning closer in anticipation. The curiosity overwhelms you too, and you freeze as you peek into the bag. 

The little star plushie stares back at you.

“You- You bought it?” You ask softly, though your eyes going wide gave away that you were surprised. Phainon watches your expression carefully, and tries not to smile too much. “Phainon, you didn’t have to.”

“You liked it, didn’t you?” He counters, leaning his elbows on the surface of the table. And oh, how you hated how his casual response mirrored what your friends said to you a few weeks before- about something as simple as this being reason enough. Phainon never seemed to stop, like helping you was the easiest thing in the world. 

You stare down at the plushie, then between him and Hyacine. “I told Hyacine I’d forget about it eventually.”

Phainon tilts his head slightly. “Would you have?”

You idly look at Phainon, whose eyes seem to burn into yours with intensity, turning the question into a challenge. It makes you more flustered.

“I-” You stammer, your jaw going slack, not being able to form an answer. You end up sighing with a smile, realizing any excuse you might make would be null in the end. You clutch the plush a little tighter in your hands. “...I guess I wouldn’t have.”

Phainon grins softly at your surrender, the market lights reflecting off his face beautifully. 

By this time, the entire group had finally come together and decided to chill out here. You continued talking to Phainon, and for a while, you forget that you were here as a group- like it was just you two.

“Are you doing okay?” He asks you. “You seemed a little distant earlier.”

“I’m fine.” You say automatically. Phainon hums, not convinced. Somehow the tiny pout he sports makes you want to be vulnerable and tell him the truth, so you continue. “I just- it’s hard keeping up with everyone.”

Your reason sounded strange, but Phainon understood what you meant. He nods, but doesn’t push you, giving a reassuring grin. “You can just hang with me.”

The offer is casual, yet it makes you feel warm in the cold weather. And once again it’s like deja vu- where you felt like there was absolutely no reason for him to include you or make you feel comfortable in any way or for any reason. Yet he does. He always does.

“How did first semester treat you?” He says, changing the subject as he bumps his knee lightly against yours. 

“It was pretty normal.” You shrug. “I made a few friends, complained about professors and group projects a little. Exams were stressful, but nothing too out of the blue.”

“Complained enough to write a bad review on them?” He asks, clearly instigating. You watch as Phainon’s eyes twinkle mischievously, and you knew the website he was referring to. You snort before you could stop yourself, and Phainon grins faintly at the sound, visibly pleased he was able to pull it from you. 

“How else do you think I’m gonna spend my break?” You ask with a bit of sass. He laughs, nodding with approval. Phainon then shifts closer to you a little, his posture becoming more upright. It was subtle, but enough that he was creating a space where his attention felt undivided now. 

“You know…” He starts lightly. “We used to hang out more before university started.”

You’re caught off guard by his sudden observation. You didn’t expect him to speak up about the weird distance between you guys, but he was right. The last time you properly saw him was… before that day you bawled your eyes out and then shoved him away when he tried to comfort you. You cringe at the memory. God, you hope he forgot about that and remembered a different day when the two of you and Mydei were happy and playing games or something.

“I- have we…? What about… orientation?” Your grip on the plush tightens a little out of nervousness. You knew damn well orientation didn’t count for shit. Still, you attempt to feign obliviousness to ease some of the discomfort you felt inside, but Phainon chuckles, catching on immediately. 

“Yeah? And you probably saw the mascot more than me.” He pouts jokingly.

“No I didn’t-” You stammer, but suddenly stop yourself when you realize he could be right. You internally beat yourself up at the thought. 

“I’m just teasing.” Phainon laughs softly, then continues in a quieter tone. “Still… I kinda miss talking to you.”

And there it was. For once your heart wants to remember what it feels like to be wanted like this. You watch as Phainon straightens and closes his eyes for a second too long before continuing, as if he was trying to gather some confidence to prove the intention behind it.

“So,” His smile returns, charming as you’ve always known. “Do you wanna hang out sometime? Just us.”

Just as you thought your heartbeat could slow down, Phainon always seems to do something to prove that it was alive- that something inside was existing. Despite your shock and silence, Phainon doesn’t corner you with his proposal.

“We could go to a cafe, and I could buy you dessert… Or we can play video games over the break… Anything that doesn’t involve that stupid mascot.” He adds easily. Phainon gets another laugh out of you, and you somehow feel lighter. A beat of silence goes by again, and you watch as Phainon looks at you in anticipation.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” You say breathily, a smile escaping you. Phainon exhales, looking strangely relieved, like he-

“Phainon-” Another voice suddenly interrupts, and you both whip your head to the source from across the picnic bench. It was another pink haired girl- albeit a slightly deeper shade of pink than Hyacine’s. Her name was Cyrene, if you remembered correctly. “Wait, are you blushing?” The girl tilts her head at Phainon, and you almost choke on air. Phainon bursts out laughing. 

“I’m not.” He turns to Cyrene, insisting with a charming smile, putting his hands up in mock surrender. You take a closer look at his cheeks now that his face was turned more to the side. You swear you saw a bit of pink… was he- no, surely this was just the cold getting to his skin.

“Well you sure blush like you were just caught flirting.” Cyrene snaps back with a bit of attitude. You’re not really sure what to do in this situation, and seemingly neither does Phainon as he looks like he’s being teased by his friend. Cyrene then turns towards you with a soft smile.

“My name is Cyrene. You’re (Y/n), right?~” Cyrene asks, and you nod in response. You found it peculiar how everything she said sounded both playful and sweet- like a song. She looks at you with her eyes bright and cheerful. “You’re really pretty, you know that?”

“I-I am…?” Your cheeks go warm as you short circuit at the sudden compliment. Hyacine who had been off engaging with the others returns to insert herself in this conversation, and nods along, agreeing. Wait, Hyacine- she was supposed to be on your side! 

“Mhm~ So…” Cyrene drags out her words with a devious smile, wagging a threatening finger at Phainon. “If you are flirting, you do know Mydei would beat you up, right?”

“I would.” Mydei lazily chimes in from a few seats down, diagonal to you. You almost forgot he was here. Phainon’s skill at isolating you guys was certainly effective. Your brother’s two little words give you mixed thoughts: one making note of how little hesitation or humour there was in his tone, and another where you seriously have concerns of your brother threatening to beat someone up again. Perhaps a trip to a rage room was due soon. 

“See? He just said he would kill you.” Cyrene enunciates, clearly understanding that her friend didn’t seem to register the what she was implying. Oddly enough, Phainon just chuckles.

“And, I wouldn’t blame him.” 

The rest of the conversation becomes a blur. You start losing track of what they were saying after Cyrene groaned at Phainon for being an oblivious puppy in knowing the consequences. What a bizarre answer… …Consequences of what?

You think back to the compliments Hyacine and Cyrene paid you, saying you were cute and pretty. You thought it was just girls hyping another girl up- as girls do. But then you think of Cyrene calling out Phainon for blushing and threats for him potentially flirting, and wonder if she was teasing him… or if she actually meant it. There was a part of you that was in disbelief, inching closer to the fact that… you might actually have a chance.

On top of all that, there was Phainon’s own reply, confirming that he’d take a beating from your brother if he actually did cross a line. You tell yourself you were reading too much into it again. 

“So… I’ll see you soon, right (Y/n)?”

That night after everyone bid their farewells, and you and Mydei returned home in your childhood home, you quickly crash into the warmth of your bed and whip out your phone. You contemplate whether calling your roommate was gonna lead to her lovingly bullying you again, but you end up telling her everything anyway.

“I don’t know what else to tell you, girl.” Your roommate sighs endearingly at you through the phone. “He made an effort to invite you, he looked for you, bought you a present... I don’t think you’re imagining things… so what do you have to lose?”

You notice that you’ve gotten too excited from how high your heart rate must be. Your smile falters (not realizing that you were even smiling this whole time in the first place), and you remember your own consequences. 

“...That’s just the problem.” You sigh back, sitting up properly now. “I don’t want to be delusional again. I can’t just launch myself into… whatever this is and make up assumptions that aren’t real.” You grab your little star plush Phainon got you from your bag. You glance down at your star plushie again, fiddling with its stupid little legs, thinking- why does a star even need to have legs? 

Your roommate’s voice softens. “But it feels different, doesn’t it?”

You don’t end up answering her.

“I’m not expecting anything.” You say finally. Despite these months of your stubbornness with the topic of Phainon, your roommate doesn’t argue. She just smiles knowingly on the other side of the line, and lets it go.

You conclude the call by telling her the rest of the whole marketplace experience, and her own winter break shenanigans. Later, when your room is quiet, you lie back on your bed, holding the star plush up to the ceiling. 

You look at its silly dangly legs, finding something so out of place cute that makes it different from the rest. Stars were supposed to stay high above everyone else, beautiful from a distance. 

But perhaps this star had been made to reach people anyway.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 19, second semester

Winter break came and went pretty fast. You and Mydei spend it mostly at home, spending time with your mom. Phainon went back to his hometown for the break as well. Like you said yourself, you weren’t expecting anything to happen during this time.

That is, until, a week after your second semester started, you started receiving texts from Phainon already. You remember your eyes widening at your phone screen when Phainon asked you if you wanted to do something during the weekends. From something as small as asking to join him in playing video games, to him insisting on accompanying you to a bookstore for your manga series, you said yes. Some small part inside you craved spending time with him, and you realized you did miss him a lot all this time. You felt like you reconnected with Phainon- just like when you were kids.

At the end of the semester, one of your peers decided to host a mixer and invited everyone in the class. The invitation sat in your messages for a while before you accepted it. A mixer… Just the thought alone of being invited sent a quiet thrill in your spine. 

Now, standing in front of the mirror, there was a brief moment where you wondered if you looked like you were trying too hard with your outfit… or too little. You wore something that showed a little more skin- a little more mature and confident, something you didn’t usually wear. Still, you decide not to dwell on the issue for long and head out. 

By the time you reached the location, there was already music and familiar people from your class there. People were clustered up, animatedly talking, hopefully having fun after the stress of final exams. A girl from your class waves you over, and passes a light drink to you. Soon enough, you overcame the initial anxiety and it felt freeing to mix in with the group.

Well, only for the first ten minutes.

You were going to excuse yourself to say hi to another acquaintance when a white-haired mass suddenly came into view- a particularly tall and handsome white-haired mass. 

Phainon? Here of all places?

Your stomach drops and you quickly duck near a corner, careful not to spill your drink or look crazy sneaking around. You peek over and see Phainon with his back turned, leaning against the kitchen island as he engages in conversation with other people. 

Your pulse was getting frantic, but you take a deep breath to try and calm yourself. Oh, but who were you kidding? If Phainon saw you here, you were sure that he would report you to Mydei within the minute. 

Phainon walks away from the kitchen counter, going off somewhere else, and you go the same direction as him to not cross paths with him. Could it be possible to avoid him this whole time? God, it was stupid when you thought about it. You basically just got here, and it shouldn’t even be scary to see Phainon here. But you weren’t really in the mood to see his smug grin or get lectured by your brother. Maybe you could hang with someone else and hide-

“That’s an interesting strategy.” A voice murmurs in your ear.

Phainon was already standing behind you, bending down to your height and way too close as amusement curls at the edge of his lips.

“Ah- Phainon! You scared me!” You hiss, your face going warm with embarrassment as you jolt backwards. Phainon only grins wider at your startled reaction. You become defensive, eyeing him up suspiciously. “What- why are you here?”

“I know the host.” Phainon says easily, then cheekily fires the same question to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing.” You grit. Phainon chuckles and shakes his head at your answer, and you internally smack your forehead. Out of all excuses, you had to say the most suspicious one? 

“Nothing but drinking, you mean?” Phainon inquires, pointing at your cup and clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “Mydei won’t be happy to hear this.”

Your face freezes at the mention of Mydei potentially knowing you were here. “I-It’s only five percent alcohol!”

“Ooh, how scandalous.” Phainon laughs, and you puff your cheeks in frustration of him teasing you.

“Oh shut up. I came here by myself so I’m not here to get drunk.” You say, rolling your eyes. 

“Even more scandalous.” He says with a whistle, and you groan. Phainon’s eyes soften, sensing he’s teased you enough. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mydei.”

Phainon’s words surprise you a little. Oddly enough, he let's you have fun and doesn't report you like you thought he would.

As the night went on, you were pulled into conversations and stupid debates, laughing at some of your peers’ weird dance moves. Every now and then, you’d catch sight of Phainon somewhere across the house- sometimes talking to other people, sometimes smiling at you, and sometimes bumping your hip beside you as he indulges the conversation with you. 

The buzz of the music gets louder as the night goes on. You participate in the fun, but eventually you start feeling tired. Phainon notices and he taps your shoulder, leaning down, telling you something… but you don’t hear anything. Because he was so close, you suddenly realize the golden sun tattoo on the side of his neck- when did he get that? As Phainon spoke, you felt a little rush inside you, making you space out. You tried making sense of your surroundings but you soon realize that he was taking over all your senses. What you could see, what you could smell… muting all of them into one: him. Was he experiencing the same buzzing feeling? You watched as his lips curved up into a grin, whispering something to you. You stare at his lips- a faint blush colour, soft and plump… you wondered what it would feel like if you…

You nod plainly in response to him, though his words clearly weren’t getting through to you. Phainon realizes you were spacing out and he chuckles lightly and stands back up, holding his hand out. You blankly take it and he guides you out of the party. Also, did you just think of-

“You okay? I asked if you were getting tired.” Phainon breathes out, his voice finally reaching your ears.

“Hm- oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You perk up as you snap out of your daze. “I am a little tired…”

“I’ll drive you back then.” He says, already taking his car keys out. He phrases it not even as a question, like he would do it for you regardless. “Do you have everything?” 

You nod, and you both get into his car. The drive back to your dorm was strangely quiet. It was slightly awkward since your peer’s house wasn’t even that far from your residence, so the ride was gonna be short. However, it felt like there was something else underneath. It was something heavy, but not an uncomfortable-pit-in-your-stomach type of heavy. It was something more charged.

The blinker clicks lightly while the streetlights gradually slide across Phainon’s face in fleeting moments. His jaw, his mouth, the curve of his hands gripping the steering wheel. You looked away before you could get caught staring. God, you were going crazy for sure, you think. 

Your pulse still hasn’t settled. Was it adrenaline from the party? Maybe so, but even then it shouldn’t make you think of kis- 

“We’re here.” Phainon softly sing-songs. You get out of the car, and Phainon decides to walk you to your door. Again, not a question. 

When you both walk into the building together, you realized it was sort of awkward with the both of you being silent this whole time. Even more so as you arrived in the narrow hallway just outside your door. Phainon walks behind you, close enough that his presence alone fills your space. As you stop at your door, you decide to say something, though he’s closer than you expect when you turn to him. You clear your throat, your hand fumbling inside your purse to find your keys to regulate yourself. 

“Thanks for the ride.” You say, looking up at him gratefully. “And… thanks for not snitching on me.”

Phainon huffs a quiet laugh. “Anytime.”

You smiled despite yourself, like it was a subconscious thing- maybe it even a contagious thing, knowing Phainon was here. Even as you briefly look down to take your keys out, Phainon was already looking at you, like he had something to say, but he doesn’t. 

You were about to unlock your door and say goodbye, but somehow your body doesn’t want to listen. You don’t feel like doing it. Your dreamy daze continues, your eyes dipping over Phainon’s outfit. You suddenly felt aware of how good he looked in a white skin-tight shirt and jeans- did he always wear things like this? You catch a glimpse of the sun tattoo you saw earlier beneath the collar of his shirt, and you even swear you see a broad gold ring on his chest- another hidden one beneath his shirt. It makes you even more curious- but more than that, it made you want him. 

Before you knew it, your body had a mind of its own, leaning in without shame with your hands shyly but certainly reaching for him- to be closer to him. Your fingers brush his, and your breath hitches, the sparks making you second guess if you should even be doing this. But when you finally bring yourself to look up at him, his gaze was already looking down to your mouth.

“(Y/n)...” HIs voice drops, barely louder than a breath. His expression softens, yet his pupils were blown wide, as if there was something unguarded slipping through. He leans in, slow and careful, giving you time to pull away. Your breathing and your heart beats faster than ever. This definitely wasn’t just the adrenaline from the party.

Suddenly, a small click is heard and Phainon mutters a curse and pulls away quickly.

Wait…

You were stunned for a few seconds, watching as he pulled back. Before you could think of how to react, your door swings open to reveal Mydei looking sleepy yet confused. Oh yeah, your roommate already went home for the summer, so now you had a giant cat invading your space. You told Mydei you were gonna go out with some friends and then go back home with him after- you forgot you left him lounging here for a while. 

“Where were you?” Mydei quirks an eyebrow at you, and gives an even more skeptical look at Phainon. “And what are you doing here?”

“I was just dropping her off.” Phainon says lightly, though you could tell he was trying his best to not sound shaky. You weren’t sure how it was possible for him to reply and make up something so calmly.  Especially since the skin of your hand was still buzzing where you touched his just seconds ago. “She just got caught up saying bye to some friends.” Mydei gives him a weird look, but doesn’t question you both, and you give a sigh of relief.

Your brother and Phainon make small talk, both asking if they were heading home for the summer. Meanwhile, you remained silent, in your own little bubble unable to calm your racing heart.

“Get some rest.” Phainon addresses you with a simple wave, and just like that, he was gone. God, you wanted to… you wish you could…

“Why is he even still here on campus?” Mydei interrupts your train of thought as he holds your door open for you.

“O-Oh… I dunno. I bumped into him on the way back.” You say casually, walking into your dorm. Lies. “Why are you here so early…?”

“It’s night time.” Mydei retorts back. “Anyway, are you done packing your stuff?”

You nod, and quickly grab your bags and head back home with Mydei. 

The drive was silent, but for you it wasn’t. Even though you were exhausted after the mixer, you couldn’t seem to be able to rest during the long drive home. You look out the window, a small smile plastered on your face as you replay that brief yet charged moment in your head. The way he leaned in, the way you could feel his breath on your lips as he whispered your name…

You almost kissed him.

Was it always like this? Your heart was beating fast as it always did, but for once you didn’t feel surprised. It felt more like… you were finally letting yourself do something you always wanted to do. Like you’ve been waiting and wanting something, and that it was okay to want things. 

Maybe it was just the realization that Phainon was always perfectly within your grasp. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 19, Summer Break

Phainon: Good morning. Phainon: I’m sorry about last night. 

It’s been a good twelve hours since you and Phainon almost kissed. At first you thought you had hallucinated it, and that you became delusional for real. Just as you had believed that this was just a figment of your imagination, Phainon never texted you- until this morning. 

(Y/n): Phainon, I don’t understand. (Y/n): Was it something I did…? Phainon: No, god no. Never. (Y/n): Then why are you apologizing?

You felt your smile drop, the warmth from last night following suit, slowly leaking away. 

Phainon: Because I'm sorry if I crossed a line. Phainon: You didn’t do anything wrong. I just didn’t want things to be awkward between us.

And it’s just so funny, isn’t it? How you’ve kept yourself safe on your own little island, with walls built so high and an army to guard your heart. And the one time you decide to let them down and embrace the sunlight, it hurts so much more. 

Confusion seems to consume you, making you anxious. The thought that you might have been too forward and was reading it all wrong feel like deja vu, specifically the same bitter feeling that you were so used to. The mere thought that Phainon didn’t want this to happen, makes your stomach coil. However, underneath the dreadful feeling was something else- because this wasn’t about you. Although you had this uncomfortable twinge of fear you refused to admit out loud, it wasn’t for yourself, but for Phainon. You stay rigid in your bed, staring at your phone. What exactly was Phainon thinking of that you weren’t?

A week later, you start getting antsy because you realize how quiet your summer vacation began. You continue to get nothing from Phainon. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he was probably busy with things back home. But as your phone sits on your desk, the screen continuing to be dark and empty, you find yourself constantly checking it, and it didn’t take long for your mind to spiral.

It’s ironic how noticeable an absence can be. 

Later, just past noon, you start to smell food being prepared, so you go down to investigate. You realized your mom was going all out for some reason, seasoning steaks and cutting vegetables as your kitchen became a room with groceries stacked high. There seemed to be something in the oven already as well. You get curious and decide to ask Mydei what your mother was preparing for.

“Hey.” You ask as you walk into his room, seeing him lounging and playing a video game lazily.

“Hey.” He responds. Mydei eyes you a little for a second then goes back to focusing on his game. “You’ve been in your room for a while.”

“Yeah…” You sigh a little sheepishly as Mydei points it out, straightforward as always. “Do you know what mom is preparing all that food for?”

“We’re barbecuing tonight, remember?” Mydei replies smoothly without looking up from his game. “I’ve got a honeycake in the oven too.”

Mydei was in charge of the cake apparently, and already had it in baking in the oven. You soften at the thought. And then you don’t because he might have put boogers in there. 

“Oh… that’s a lot of food.” You remark. Something feels off for some reason, ironically like an emptiness despite the feast being prepared. 

When you walked into his room, you considered asking your brother what he would do if he was hypothetically faced with the situation you were- with Phainon that is. But then you already think of his response and- “I dunno, they both sound like idiots to me.” Yep, no help at all. To think you almost considered bucking up the courage to ask your brother for advice, when it should be better to question his reliability. 

Instead, you ask him a more direct question-

“...Is Phainon coming?” You ask. Your cheeks get a little warm, but satisfying your curiosity was more important.

The mention of Phainon seems to get Mydei’s attention a little more. “...No?”

It’s ironic how one little word could get you to frown so easily. But it simply didn’t sound right to you. Ever since you were teenagers, Phainon has came over consistently to your house, showing up to practically everything. Barbecues, birthdays, movie nights… or even the simple weekends where nothing special was happening, he ended up staying longer than expected. And when you all became older and busier, he always made the effort to show up at least once. There had never been a question of whether he was coming. 

“Oh…” The disappointed response tumbles out of your mouth before you even thought about it. You tell yourself that Phainon wasn’t obligated to come over, that he had his own life and responsibilities. Heck, he wasn’t even your friend first- he was technically Mydei’s but…

Still…

“Why do you ask?” Mydei asks, pausing his video game, sensing that you were concerned about something deeper.

It still felt wrong to you. 

“Because… I thought he’d be coming. He always comes over during the summer…” You reply cautiously. 

“So?” 

“So... he’s your best friend.”

“Isn’t he also yours?” Mydei retorts back skeptically. 

“Well yeah… but usually you invite him over.” You say meekly. 

“I asked him already.” Mydei sighs.  “Said he was busy.”

A lump forms in your throat. God, what were you supposed to do now? There were too many things unsaid, and even more things you wanted to ask. A part of you felt like Phainon’s response was an excuse- that if you didn’t get him now, that he’d just get farther from you. Were you going to have to wait until who knows when to talk to Phainon again? 

As your hand idly trails along your brother’s bedroom wall, it was like you’ve experienced this before. You, at thirteen years old, gathering all the courage you had (none) to nervously enter in your brother’s room to get your charger back- all at the expense of meeting Phainon. You remember how shy you were when Phainon tried talking to you that time, how weirded out you were when he tried to include you out of the blue. You were at the same place you were then- at the threshold of Mydei's doorway until Phainon stole the last word, calling out one last thing.

"Maybe next time then."

Before you could overthink it, you push yourself off the wall and face Mydei again.

“Can you ask him again?” You ask, and Mydei gives you a weird look.

“Why would I- he’s gonna say no again.” Mydei says. Now, why would his dear sister actively request Phainon’s presence? Even you, the sister, do not know. 

“Tell him I want him there.” You reply. The quiet determination in your eyes almost shocks Mydei. 

He blinks at you for a split second, like he understood the meaning behind it. Your brother doesn’t question you for once. He doesn’t get suspicious, or feel the need to protect you.

“...Fine.” Mydei sighs and picks up his phone again, and you watch as his fingers tap the screen to send the new text to Phainon. You stand there biting your lip, not even sure if this would work. You can’t even believe that Mydei actually agreed to do it. 

You thank your brother, and finally walk out of his bedroom, knowing the response might take time. But not even a second after you step into your own room, a buzz comes from your phone.

Phainon: Hey, I’m on my way. I’ll be there around 5.

Phainon: Thanks for inviting me 

A glimmer of hope finally starts to exist within your mind. Phainon was coming, simply because you asked. And maybe you were right about him- maybe he was just waiting for you, just like he always has. 

A few hours later, your doorbell rings. Your mom is the first to dash to the door, dropping everything to greet Phainon with a bone-crushing hug. Of course, Phainon’s used to it so it does little to affect him. 

“Phainon! Oh my goodness, look at you!” Your mother coos, the same endearments making Phainon chuckle. She continues gushing about Phainon as if he was family already- which in a sense he was. “You’ve grown so much- and so handsome too! Mydei, can you believe it?” 

You can smell your brother’s eyeroll from here. Meanwhile, Phainon smiles easily, nodding and murmuring something polite and charming. You haven’t even gone down to greet him yet, but little does anyone else know, hearing his voice- the mere existence and knowledge that he was here sent a thrill through you.

You hear your mother tell the boys that the barbecue will start soon, and they should wash up. The boys insist on helping your mom and they argue in a good-natured way. They split up and start preparing different things, with Mydei helping your mom prepare the grill. You hesitate for a moment, but take this as a cue to finally talk to Phainon.

You walk out from your bedroom, and as you linger at the top of the stairs looking down, Phainon seems to subconsciously pause mid-motion. Your heart still skipped when he looked at you- hands tucked into his pockets and white messy hair catching the sunlight from outside your backyard’s door. He subtly turns his head to you, and his smile was still there- soft, slightly hopeless, and nervous, like he was bracing himself for this moment just as you have.

“Hey…” He says lightly. It’s only been one week since you last saw him, yet it feels like it’s been a year. He even greets you like it’s been a year, and you knew he was feeling the same thing you were. You step closer, and you watch as his eyes attempt to hide the tension. 

“Hi…” You take a deep breath, the feeling of determination not helping you steady your nerves. But truthfully, you cared more that he was just here with you. His hopeless smile seems to be contagious as you start to sport the same one as you sigh with relief. “You made it.”

“Yeah…” Phainon breathes out. Oddly, his smile gets wider, like he was happy to end up coming to your home.

“...Can we talk?” You ask hesitantly. As always, Phainon surprises you, as he willingly walks closer to you, as if to follow you wherever. 

“Of course.” He replies smoothly. You give him a nod and slowly lead to towards your bedroom for a more private conversation. 

You close your door after Phainon walks in. He seems to curiously look around your room, noticing the little trinkets and photos that have changed over the years. He hasn’t been here for a while.

“Can I sit?” Phainon asks, patting your bed. You nod and say yes, and you both sit on the edge. You didn’t know where to start- diving straight into the obvious thing seemed too heavy.

“Mydei told me you were busy…” You remark. “I thought you weren’t gonna come.”

“I know.” He admits sheepishly. You felt the honesty beneath his words as he tries to ease any negative feelings you might harbour towards him for his initial excuse.  “I just thought that… I had crossed a line.”

“Crossed a line?” You repeat. Phainon pauses, then sighs endearingly. Your question was innocent, yet posed a different meaning for Phainon. For the first time in weeks, he feels the weight of what he’s kept inside.

“Remember what happened after the mixer?” Phainon asks. You nod, and he continues. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” 

“You know what.” He says with a light chuckle and nudge to your arm to ease the tension and awkwardness. “I… I almost kissed you.”

“But I almost kissed you too.” You remark guilelessly. Your gaze was unwavering, and you can feel him register the resolve behind it. You weren’t going to drop this were you? Of course you weren’t. So Phainon exhales slowly, giving a small awkward smile as he lowers his guard a little.

“...And that’s the problem. You’re Mydei’s sister. You’re not just anyone to me (Y/n)- you’re important. I can’t risk ruining what I have with you and Mydei.” Phainon sighs, rubbing his forehead like this was making him sweat. With how he was behaving, you get the feeling that he likely felt guilty- like a bastard who shouldn’t be liking his best friend’s sister, making it equivalent to a sin. Phainon seems to know something you don’t. Phainon sputters a little as he’s stuck between going off on a nervous rant and being gentle. Then he finally brings himself to explain further. “I-I mean… what would you have done if we really leaned in? Do you even know how to kiss?” 

“No…” You admit. “But you seem like you’d be good at it.”

“You really think so?” Phainon laughs softly, seeming curious at your remark. Oddly enough, his tone gets softer like a whisper as he presses you for another question. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re… you know…” You stammer, trying to latch onto something specific, but truthfully you could say anything. You take a good look at him and he’s still perfection incarnate. Phainon laughs softly again.

“I think you think way too highly of me.” He smiles, his tone slightly teasing like he found your answer amusing. You might even go as far as to say that he might’ve sounded a bit shy when he said that. Phainon’s hand lays on the bed, his pinky millimeters away from yours. He leans back a bit, as if to get a better look at you too. “How would you know if I’ve kissed anyone?”

You think again for a moment, except this time you didn’t have an answer. Phainon looks back at you patiently.

“I don’t know.” You admit quietly, but determination lingers in your eyes. Did you really know? No, of course not. No matter how perfect you thought he was, there was no way you could know if he had that kind of experience. So there was only one way to.

“But I want to know.”

Phainon’s breath catches in his throat, genuinely speechless for a moment at your response. He simply looks at you, the noises of the evening starting to disappear. His blue eyes seem strangely brighter than usual, like they were seeing every past version of yourself. And now here you were, your present self saying words that mirrored his own when he first met you, yearning to know more about each other. Just a girl standing in the hallway, waiting for someone to notice her, and a kind boy simply smiling back at her, who always has. He suddenly lets out a chuckle, small and breathless as he finally surrenders his noble front.

“Come here then.” He coaxes softly, his lashes seemingly fluttering in slow motion as his eyes open. You blink in surprise.

“What?”

“Come here.” Phainon repeats, his expression softening. His smile doesn’t falter, in fact- only getting wider and making the corners of his eyes crinkle in that boyish way you’ve always known. Somehow, you understood, and you start to surrender your own noble front as you move closer to him, unashamedly smiling just as bright as him. 

Phainon’s eyes trail your own as your thigh touches his. His hand comes up carefully to cup your cheek. There was no more hesitation in either of your movements. No more almosts and no more waiting- only the split second pause where you both realize this was the closest you’ve ever been, breaths mingling and eyes hazy as if you both couldn’t believe this was happening. You lean in even more, just the same as you did that night, and Phainon does too, just like you always knew he would. 

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours, letting his restraint crack just to taste what he’s been waiting so long for. You both close your eyes, savouring soft warmth of each other’s lips. Even the little smiles and chuckles, and now your hands softly laying on his chest were enjoyable. 

You pull away for a brief moment, yours and Phainon’s lips leaving with a soft smooch sound. There was a flicker of disbelief in your eyes, with Phainon’s looking equally as stunned. But the easy smiles that come after make you realize how it came so effortlessly for Phainon- nothing but affection. 

You both stare at each other, a little breathless and a little shy as if it was a way to come back down to Earth. But neither of you seem to want to let go. Phainon’s hand remains near your cheek, while yours remains loosely gripping onto the hem of his shirt. 

“I’m glad you wanted to know.” Phainon says softly with an awkward but loving smile. He gets a laugh out of you too, and even now he finds himself craving the sound more. He’d like to make you laugh like that more in the future. Now if only… “Shit- your brother’s gonna kill me.”

You watch as Phainon looks away slightly, his face going pale except for a sheepish blush. The consequence dawns on you as well, but in this moment as you’re still high on dopamine, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel it. 

“He’s gonna kill me too.” You shrug, trying to make him feel better. “And you say it as if you’re not one of his favourite people.”

“You’re his sister, he can’t be mad at you. Not for long at least.” Phainon says while sighing. Even though this guilt eats him up, he can’t help but smile. “Me though… I might need to pay in my next life.”

“But he’s never threatened to disown you.” You challenge. Phainon lets out a hearty laugh at your honesty, knowing his best friend could get quite creative with insults.

“Maybe not, but I feel like I’m about to find out.” Still, even if you both were about to be disowned by Mydei, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Phainon look this happy to be disowned. 

“We should head down now.” Phainon says softly, as the laughter dies down. You nod, though neither of you really move, both still sitting on your bed, smiling like dopes. You both laugh again, until Phainon stands and offers you his hand to stand up as well.

You take it without hesitation, and he pulls you up gently. And he doesn’t let go- neither of you do actually.

His fingers fit between yours easily, like it was meant to be this way. You and Phainon begin to walk towards your bedroom door to exit, though he seems a little hesitant.

“(Y/n)- how exactly are we going to explain to Mydei about this…?” He asks nervously, looking mildly embarrassed. You shrug, still not really caring.

“He’s just gonna have to deal with it.” You say casually, reaching for the doorknob. “Also, maybe don’t mention my brother within five minutes after we kiss.” 

A cheeky grin spreads on Phainon's face, finding your response utterly defiant yet endearing. He chuckles, shaking his head while smiling helplessly. A thousand teasing responses are circling within his head, though he opts to sprinkle a little sarcasm in there. “My bad. I’ll try to do better next time then.”

“Oh? There will be a next time?” 

A guttural scream tears through your throat (again?). MYDEI?!

Your’s and Phainon’s jaws both go slack, speechless as you both remain frozen in the threshold of your doorway. There stood your brother, deadpan with his arms crossed… wearing an apron and oven mitts. 

“Wh- MYDEI!!” You scream, mortified. You want to throw something at him, but the only thing beside you was a Phainon. “How long have you been standing there?!”

“How long have I been standing here? I think the better question is why you both aren’t downstairs.” Mydei’s tone reeks of sarcasm, very much not in the mood to take any bullshit from either of you. 

You realize Mydei was right- the entire house smelled delicious with the smells of good food was wafting everywhere. 

“There are steaks being grilled outside. I made honeycake...” Mydei lists, looking genuinely perplexed. Then his eyes look between you and Phainon, looking absolutely disgusted. “And yet here you both are… …kissing?”

You think you see Mydei shiver and gag slightly when he says the k-word, which should have been funny but right now you feel too defensive to think about that.

“MYDEI!!” 

Mydei barely has time to react when you suddenly decide to launch yourself at him.

“Hey-” Mydei sputters, grunting as you smack his arm, and then his shoulder. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What is wrong with you?!” You snap back and hit your brother more though it doesn’t really affect him since he was holding you back. 

Meanwhile, Phainon watches the petty catfight of a sibling argument with a fond smile on his face. With Mydei looking disgusted while wearing an apron and oven mitts, fighting against you who was aggressively clawing at your brother like a cat, Phainon internally declares that he has never seen a more stupid thing in his life. Goodness, was this the glory that Kremnoans were known for? Somehow, it endeared him even more. 

“I don’t get why you’d be busy kissing when there’s good food downstairs.”

“STOP SAYING IT!”

“I made you a honeycake… for this?”

“I know you made honeycake! You mentioned it fifty times in the past two minutes! Is this seriously your priority?!” 

“My priority?- Look at yours!”

Was there really any point to this argument anymore?

After a few more lovely seconds of arguing, Phainon sighs fondly and clasps his hands, one of yours and the other on your brother’s shoulder. You and Mydei oddly stop bickering, both looking at Phainon’s expression which could only be described as fond disbelief. This entire scene was ridiculous, but somehow also his favourite.

“Alright alright, let’s just go down now. Hm?” Phainon smiles, hoping to ease the playful bullying. Mydei continues to glare at him. Right message, wrong messenger…

“...I’m gonna kill that guy.” Mydei seethes, looking straight at Phainon yet addressing you.

You want to start fighting your brother again, but to your surprise, Phainon laughs harder before you could react. Then, with the same gentle amusement from years ago, he reaches over and lightly pats Mydei’s shoulder. 

“I’ll hold you to it.”

The words feel familiar, because they are. You look at him now- his eyes crinkling with mirth as he said nearly the same thing months ago. For some reason, as you watch Mydei glare at Phainon- the bastard you just kissed had the audacity to smile at him, the silent look they gave each other somehow explained something you were secretly worrying about this whole time but never had to. 

Mydei probably knew, you think. You’re not sure how long he’s been suspecting it, though when you look back at your own antics it was probably obvious anyway. You cringe internally, not wanting to think about your brother knowing about this thing with Phainon for who knows how long. 

“Now- can we go eat before someone gets murdered?” Phainon asks tenderly, interrupting the chaos. It’s ironic how Phainon seems the happiest here, while you and Mydei both grumble and surrender. He’s still smiling, still patient with you and your brother. Phainon laughs again, and you all head downstairs together- though this time, Phainon doesn’t let go of your hand. 

And naturally, you don’t think to let go either. 

Your porch lights seem to glow with the same warmth that you’ve felt over the years. Your mother lovingly scolds Mydei for disappearing, and Mydei only grumbles saying nobody appreciates his cooking. 

You feel thirteen again as your memories overlap with reality. The smell of home cooking, summer air drifting through the windows, your brother being broody… And Phainon- a boy who started out a mystery, a teenage boy who simply sat at your table smiling like he already belonged there. You come to realize something: Phainon had never been a guest at this house. 

All those years, while you were busy mourning things you thought weren’t meant for you, something else was growing beside you the whole time. He became so much more to you, simply because he wanted to be, and because you finally let him.

And for Phainon? Of course it was easy for him. He had always been reaching for home in the first place.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Notes:

For reference, this fic is called Seventeen :)

I rewrote a couple of parts so I will reblog some of the deleted parts and extra notes here later so they don't go to waste in case anyone wants to see the alternative direction

Anyway thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed <3

Edit: THERE ARE SO MANY ERRORS I'M CRINGING SO BAD

[dynameow]

LOVE IS A DISEASE ✶ FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI | M.LIST

꒰ synopsis ꒱ ✶ between managing dynamight’s image and cleaning up his pr messes, you think you’re decent at keeping things under control. unless it comes to your feelings—you definitely can’t keep those under control or: you are bakugou katsuki’s perpetually nagging publicist, and he’s your most troublesome client. for some odd reason, that’s exactly why you both work

꒰ word count ꒱ ✶ (tba. but estimated 40-50k words) ; holy fuck this is the longest thing i’ve ever written so far. plssss give it a chance though!!!

꒰ before you read ꒱ ✶ female reader + feminine clothing ; publicist reader ; quirkless reader ; pro hero bakugou ; bakugou and kirishima run an agency together ; workplace romance ; many chronically online social media references ; smut (please read warnings on individual chapters!) ; villain attacks ; injuries + blood (nothing gory though) ; canon compliant + contains spoilers for timeskip ; fluff + bantering ; arguments + minor angst ; happy endings! ; mostly proof read

꒰ commentary ꒱ ✶ omg. i have no clue how this small idea blew up into a whole series but here we are lolllll

꒰ upload schedule ꒱ ✶ chapters will be uploaded once a week on friday evenings cst! (the first 33k words are already written i swear the chapters are coming)

── ✶ PART ONE (16.6k words)

── ✶ PART TWO (12.1k words)

── ✶ PART THREE (12.1k words)

more tba. (there will be at least one more part but it might be more. idk yet it depends on how many words the ending scenes will be as i only have them roughly outlined so far)

[zaynezone]

LUSH LIFE

spending a week faking a relationship with the world's most perfect man? what could go wrong?

warnings: tbd <3

updates every sunday!

comment to be tagged!!

prelude

chapter 1: As if there was no past

chapter 2: Doin' it the way I wanna

chapter 3: Gonna spend it like no other

chapter 4: The lush life's given me a rush

chapter 5: The sun won't set on us

[indiewritesxoxo]

sugar and spice (and something not-so-nice)

using you to get close to his target seemed like a good idea - until toji ended up the one with a bullseye on his heart instead

synopsis: you were paid to pick up after Satoru's messes. toji was paid to put a bullet in him. but doing his job is a lot more difficult when the lines between personal and professional get blurred. just how far will he go to get the job done without losing you too?

pairing: hitman!toji x f!reader

wc: 10.6k

content: smut, light angst, YANDERE TOJI, he's a hitman so murder lol, stalking, obsession, jealousy, oblivious reader, falling for each other, he's lowk crazy lol but he is hot!!, mentions of drinking, flirting, he wants us bad, semi-public sex, fingering in a bar bathroom, making out, shower sex, light spanking, pulling out, toji is a problem solver lmfao, comfort

a/n: toji art is by @ackshuallyvalerie !! this was a commission for the lovely @chewiebee

For a pretty penny, he could put a bullet in anyone.

Toji had been doing it long enough now that pulling the trigger didn’t bother him. The things that did were dulled with booze, gambling whatever he was given and riding on the high until he crashed and couldn’t afford shit anymore. 

Then he did it all again. And again. And again.

“This one is-” Shiu started, and the hesitation in his voice irritated the shit out of him. Like he couldn’t fucking handle the same job he’d been doing for years. 

“How much?” Toji interrupted, bringing a lukewarm beer to his lips, watching some boxing game on the bar’s tv. The sound was muted, but it wasn’t like anyone would be able to hear it over the rumble of drunken girls giggling and grown men arguing over which athlete was better. 

Shiu slid over the contract, tapping over the amount being offered. 

It was more than his past six jobs combined. 

“I’m in.”  

Shiu made a weak attempt to try and talk him out of it. Tell him he’d end up in jail at best, or buried six feet under at worst. That the target was high profile. 

Toji didn’t care who it was a death sentence for. It wasn’t like there was much worth left in living anyway. 

Flipping through the file, headshots of some smarmy-looking CEO, the kind of guy who made millions in a day just by existing, probably spending more time spinning around in his office chair than actually doing a shred of the work he was paid for. Blessed from the time he was born to be rich and beautiful, rolling around in dollar bills and women with big tits. 

Satoru Gojo had never known a single day of struggle. Of suffering. 

Honestly, he’d probably do the job even if he wasn’t being paid for it just to see the look on his face when the gun went off. Watch the life drain from him out and stain his custom-made suit. 

He spent a few days doing research he hated. Copying down schedules and figuring out the holes in his security system. When he worked, who he spent time with, where he liked to frequent. 

To find the answer to the question: how did a man who thought he was untouchable like to live? 

Lavishly. 

He went to the nicest gym in the city, the kind that probably cost more than Toji's rent did every month. Followed it up with treat shops, always leaving with a bag of desserts with enough sugar to give him cavities. No trips to the dentist though. 

But the most interesting part of his routine was one that hadn’t been in any of the notes he was given. Not a blip on anyone’s radar, apparently. 

You. 

“I got you a coffee,” you offered, your short little pencil skirt riding up your thighs as you chased after your boss through the lobby of his fancy office building in the center of the city. 

“Thanks,” he grinned at you, grabbing it just to place all the papers he’d been holding in your hands instead, pushing even more on top while you awkwardly opened and shut your mouth to stop yourself from saying anything. 

He took a small sip, scrunched his nose up while Toji struggled not to scoff out loud from where he was pretending to read a magazine in the corner next to the other waiting clients, all of them eagerly hoping to meet with the not-so-great Satoru Gojo.

“It’s not sweet enough,” Gojo criticized, masking his attitude with playfulness, acting like a child while you apologized to him as if you’d done something wrong by thinking of him. 

He wasn’t listening. Just kept moving towards the elevators, pulling his phone from his pockets to make a phone call to some other prick, probably. 

You scrambled behind him, folders stacked up in your arms, the coffee cup precariously balanced on top of the pile. 

God, what kind of fucking loser didn't carry his own stuff? 

His pretty little assistant he used more like a pack mule. 

It didn’t take long to find out your name. 

From there, everything else was easy. 

Finding out where you lived was as simple as following you from your car to your shitty little apartment, poorly paid and scraping by while your boss lived in his luxury penthouse on the opposite side of the city. Figuring out what foods you liked from what you spent too long looking at in the grocery store before you sighed and tossed a bag of rice in your cart instead. Snapping photos of you from afar like a fucking secret admirer through your window once you got back home, time stamped and saved to a special folder on his laptop, watching you shed your coat and clothes, trading them in for t-shirts and pajama pants. 

Toji wasn’t a stalker though.

Of course not. 

He was just doing what he was paid for. 

And what easier way was there to get to Gojo than through his cute, clueless assistant? 

You weren’t even aware when he trailed behind you on the street, head trained forward, always in a rush, scampering from place to place without stopping. Running errands for a man who couldn’t care less about you.

And in this city, you might be the only person as alone as him. 

Toji couldn’t put his finger on when studying you had become less of a chore and more of a habit. Day four? Week two?

Watching and waiting for the right time to approach? 

For all his expertise, his ability to move through the world unseen, unnoticed, it worked against him for once when you ran straight into him trying to leave your usual coffee shop, turning when he hadn’t expected it and smacking into his chest at full speed.

The coffee – something cold and sugary and sweet – splashed over both of you, your white shirt soaked through to see a pale pink bra underneath, your face flushing for the wrong reasons as you immediately started rattling off apologies.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you muttered, trying to use the few napkins you grabbed to dab at his t-shirt, rubbing uselessly despite the fabric already being black. “I wasn’t paying attention, and-” 

“S’fine,” he grunted, yanking one from his hand to wipe off your shirt instead. 

You didn’t stop him. 

Just froze, standing completely still as he dragged the napkin over your chest while it heaved, listening to you suck in a sharp breath. 

When was the last time you’d even been intimate with a man if him cleaning your shirt had you practically pressing your thighs together in that prissy skirt of yours? 

Admittedly, there was a distinct disgust churning in him at the image of you being intimate with someone else, despite how quickly he rejected it.

It wasn't like you were more than a mark to Toji.

He squinted, eyes narrowing as his attention shifted to your face just to find you openly gawking at his broad chest, lips still parted mid-apology. 

“Oh, um, thanks,” you practically squeaked, looking up at all with big, surprised eyes.  

“Whatever,” he tch-ed, digging out his last ten dollar bill from his wallet and holding it out despite the urge to just toss it at you to see what you’d do. 

You shook your head, oblivious to the fact he was well-aware just how strapped to cash you really were, biting your bottom lip. “I can’t, I mean, that was really my fault, and-” 

“Don’t make me put it in your purse, doll,” he huffed at you, even if he almost said bra. Tempted to tuck it in, wondering if you’d let him. 

Did you even have it in you to stand up for yourself? 

How the hell did a pretty thing like you survive so long on your own like this? 

“A-are you sure?” You stuttered, glancing back over him again. 

His pride took a fucking hit at your uncertainty. 

Did he seriously look like he couldn’t spare a ten dollar bill? Was it the sweatpants? 

He showered this morning, bothered to spritz on cologne when he usually couldn’t give a shit. Toji ran his fingers through his hair, jaw locking as his eyes narrowed.

“You got a pen?” He grumbled, wagering that you definitely did. Maybe he hadn’t seen the inside of your purse, but he’d been watching you long enough to know what its contents were. 

In a not creepy way. 

“Yes?” You blinked, somehow cuter when you were confused. 

Still though, you were obedient, anticipating him asking for it and just digging it out from your bag to hand to him. The tip of it had been bitten, another little hint of how nervous you were by nature. 

He took it from you, his calloused fingers brushing against your much softer ones, a jolt of electricity traveling up his arm at the simple touch, the soft way your breath paused. You had to feel it too. 

Toji scribbled his number down. 

His personal cell. 

You were beaming before he even finished writing the last number, standing up straighter, sticking your chest out more. 

“I’ll buy you a new shirt,” he grunted, giving you the pen before the dollar, holding it out over your head, your stare flickering from his face to the money. “Text me.” 

He wanted you to reach for it. 

To chase him. 

But three more days passed – and he hadn’t heard a peep. 

Toji knew what you were up to, tracking you instead of his target, taking notes on everything you did instead of texting him. You stared at your phone at home though, left the dollar bill sitting on your kitchen counter, running your fingers over his writing as if you weren’t sure what to do. 

He supposed he’d have to help you figure it out then. 

Especially considering Shiu was starting to get on his ass about getting the job done. 

Because that was what this was supposed to be about – a means to an end. 

Faking a name tag was easy. Digging up the old utility overalls he’d seen some of the other maintenance workers wear at your office, the sort of position no one ever paid any mind to until they were needed for something. He didn't get much sleep, trading in his night shift watching you go to sleep for snooping around your office. And in the morning, after going back to his car to put on some cologne, he walked back in through the lobby like he was supposed to be there, not even getting courtesy nods from your coworkers. 

Toji had memorized your schedule. 

So he knew to be in the third floor break room at ten, pretending to fix something in the ceiling when you walked in to make a cup of coffee. 

For yourself this time. 

He was climbing down from the ladder he stole from a storage closet when you sighed and started cleaning up the mess the last person had left by the coffee machine. You didn’t notice, didn’t even turn until you went to grab a mug from the shelf, frowning when you realized they had all been moved to the top shelf. 

A nice touch, in his opinion.  

Setting everything up to be the one to take care of it for you, stepping behind you, close enough for you to feel his chest on your back as he reached up to get it for you. 

“Here,” he grumbled, and you slowly spun around to face him. 

Stuck between his sturdy body and the cold counter, frozen in surprise at him being here. He wondered if you’d be scared, suspicious. 

It was funny to watch you get so flustered instead, completely frazzled as you tried to find the words to say. 

“Um, you, uh, work here?” You finally managed, and he just raised a brow, the scar over his mouth twitching as he gestured towards the name tag on his belt. 

You blushed again, your attention drifting to something else by it, the bulge he hadn't meant to be sporting. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, a low drawl that made you smile at him. 

It was sunny. You were. Bright, not bitter. Absolutely unaware that the world revolved around you. 

“Sorry,” you apologized, even though you had no actual reason to. Maybe for not messaging him back. Maybe for stealing glances at his dick. 

He paused, a weird strained feeling taking over his chest, constricting his lungs when you tilted your head to the side. 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” you added, holding your breath. 

“I’ve seen you,” he shrugged, and your entire face practically lit up at the idea someone had been paying attention to you. 

You swallowed hard, trying to stifle it. To keep it contained, to make yourself smaller in front of him, like he wouldn’t like you if you weren’t soft-spoken. 

“Do you think you could take a look at the phones in my office? Well, Mr. Gojo’s,” you corrected yourself, toying with your fingers before cringing. “Only if you're available, of course. I put in a ticket but-”

“Sure,” he grunted. 

As long as the actual maintenance guy didn’t come, you’d never know the difference. After all, that was why he’d broken in last night. Disconnecting the phones himself, creating a couple issues with a few of the computers in the sales team downstairs that the real department would be too busy to handle any of your problems. If you ever pieced together he didn’t actually work there, it wouldn’t be until long after he was gone.

He'd prefer it if you never knew any better. 

And Shiu never said he couldn’t have some fun first. 

He followed you back to your office, not hiding his stare, enjoying how you were already squirming, nervously shifting and looking over your shoulder at him every few feet. 

“You didn’t have to do it now,” you mumbled, embarrassed, but he shrugged. 

Rolling his shoulders back to remind you how broad they were, catching the flash of you biting your lip before you faced forward again. 

Everything about you was far more fucking adorable than it had any right to be. 

Toji had never really gotten the appeal of stuffed animals. He never had any when he was a kid. No softness, no warmth, nothing small and sweet to hug. But you reminded him of one.

Or maybe that was just the urge to pick you up and squeeze you hard. 

“What’s wrong with ‘em?” He gruffly asked, gesturing ahead as you hit the button for the elevator to take you both to the top floor. 

“They just ring, and um, nothing happens,” you tried to explain, smoothing down your skirt self-consciously. 

He nodded, like he knew what the problem could be, and he did, actually. Because he caused it. 

The elevator doors opened, thankfully empty. There was something annoying about the idea of sharing you – even for a minute. 

Toji told himself that you were just less irritating than other people. That it had nothing to do with you in particular, just how disgusting the rest of the world was. 

But he was still observing how you pushed the button, how quickly you went back to fiddling with your fingers and picking at your cuticles. Clasping your hands in front of you, maybe just remembering the fact you forgot your coffee back in the break room. Left it by the pot you brewed, your lip gloss staining the rim from the single sip you'd taken and the drink inside growing cold. 

Did you confess? 

Admit you wanted to go back and grab it? 

Nope. 

He knew you wouldn’t. All that meant was another excuse to go back and get it for you himself, maybe make you a fresh one to cement his spot in your good graces, to get your guard down. 

The elevator dinged, opening up to wooden floors and soft lighting. Wall art he had briefly contemplated stealing the night before, although he skipped since it’d be a bitch to sell. 

Besides, he’d have more than enough money to cover anything he wanted to buy soon enough. 

“Um, the phone’s over here,” you shyly said, leading him over to your desk. 

Toji nodded, a low grunt of acknowledgement leaving his throat while he pretended to work on it, messing around with cables. 

You were watching him, taking your seat and clicking away on your keyboard despite your eyes constantly flickering over to his. 

He pretended he didn’t notice. Setting his jaw in a firm line while he unplugged stuff just to put it in different outlets. He considered tapping the lines, just to listen in to whatever you were saying during the day, but then he'd have to justify that expense to Shiu, and he really didn’t fucking feel like getting a lecture. 

His handler would tell him just to take out the target already. Stop wasting his time getting close to a liability. 

But of all the risks Toji had taken, you were the easiest one of all.

Would you let him find an excuse to get under your desk? Maybe catch a peek at whatever pair of panties you picked out today? 

Your personal phone rang – and you were scrambling to pick it up and answer. 

“Hello?” Your voice lilted up, all pure and sweet, and Toji immediately loathed whoever you were addressing. 

It wasn’t anything he could control, just instinctual irritation, a cheese grater to his patience watching you sit up straighter in your chair while you listened to whoever was on the other end. 

“Of course, sir,” you chirped. He had to stop himself from snapping the cord he was holding when he caught how you were subtly twirling your hair. Glancing down at your lap and sucking in a sharp breath before you mumbled, “Sorry, Satoru.” 

Toji had to look down to make sure he didn't somehow electrocute himself when the edges of his vision tinged with red, annoyance rolling into a tight ball of anger. The hard kind that couldn't crack, just rolled around in the pit of his stomach, demanding something be done about it. 

“Okay, see you in thirty.” You smiled. A soft one, biting it back before plastering a practiced expression of professionalism, probably remembering Toji was still here. 

He scowled at the realization Gojo coming back meant he should probably skip bringing you that coffee. Didn't want to risk running into him too soon. 

You hung up, and he shoved the last cord back in the correct place. 

“Try now,” he growled, picking the phone up from the receiver and passing it to you.

You took it from him, your fingertips brushing against his again, all gentle as you cradled it between your shoulder and ear, nails clicking on the keypad. Relief flooded your face when it worked, looking up at him like you were thankful. 

Gratitude wasn't something Toji knew how to receive. 

He was used to the exchange of cash, of cold demands that ended in death. Your warmth was alien. 

What had a guy like Satoru Gojo ever done to deserve it? 

Was this jealousy? Bitter and begging to be addressed, his skin itching at imagining the man getting your company all day long, having you at his beck and call. 

Whatever it was, Toji was going to fucking squash it. 

“Thank you, it was really nice of you-”

“What are you doing after work?” He interrupted before you could finish rambling, making all the reasons why you were easy to take advantage of excruciatingly obvious. You were too sweet. Too nice. Acting like he was a saint for fixing your phone, unaware he was the sinner who broke it to begin with. Who'd break your boss too, the second he got the chance. 

“Um, nothing?” You blinked. Your lips were still parted, but you didn't say anything. 

“Wanna grab drinks?” He grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. Toji wanted to lean across the desk, put his palm flat on top of your useless papers and peek at your cleavage, but you were the sort that scared easily. 

The confusion on your face was cute. 

“Like, as coworkers?” You were clueless. “Are other people coming or-” 

Did you seriously fucking think you were just getting left out of some after work hangout? 

“Like a date,” he clarified, struggling not to contain his urge to bend you over your desk and show you just how not-platonic his interest was. 

“With me?” 

You were gawking, but there was an unmistakable air of giddiness to your face, a grin you couldn't suppress even under all that shock. 

“Did I stutter, doll?” Toji gruffly said, walking around your desk until your eye level was at his mid-riff. Your hand tightened around the armrest, slowly dragging your stare up like you could see the truth in his face. 

“Um, sure,” you nodded, still unsure of how serious he was. “If you want to.” 

“I want you,” he easily shrugged, making his point clear. 

He wasn't delicate. Wouldn't skirt around shit like your Satoru did. Being blunt was the only way to get it through that pretty skull of yours anyway. 

“I'll be waiting for you out front at six.” That was when you usually scampered out anyway, frazzled and exhausted from handling a man child's chores all day. 

“Okay,” you spoke softly, betraying your feelings by covering your mouth with your hands, hiding a smile behind them. 

He turned to leave, but he kept his eyes on you all the way to the elevator. 

You watched him too. He might have a job to do. 

Toji was just going to fuck you first. 

Was this how it felt to have a crush? 

Well, one that wasn’t hopeless and unattainable? 

You’d been wasting years wishing Satoru noticed you. And in a matter of days, someone else had snuck up on you. A spilled coffee. A phone number. And now, a date. 

When was the last time you'd even been on one? 

You frowned at your reflection in the mirror, fingers working to undo another button of your shirt and hike up your skirt a little higher. Half of you was disappointed that he hadn't asked you out on a different night, or given you enough time to go home and get changed into something a little more sexy and less like you just stepped out of an investor meeting. 

But the rest of you was just glad he wanted to go out with you at all. 

You tried to tell yourself you had less time to overthink this way. That you wouldn't be distracted for days until the date, waiting for him to cancel. 

But when you walked out of the building at six, leaving a sticky note for Satoru whenever he stepped out of his office letting him know you couldn’t stay late tonight, Toji was true to his word, waiting for you in a beat-up black car. 

It wasn’t sleek, wasn’t shiny and freshly glossed like Satoru’s, but it looked fast. His window was rolled down, his arm resting on it while his defined jaw unclenched at the sight of you standing there and staring. 

“You comin’?” 

Was it wrong to hope he’d make sure you did by the end of the night? 

You scampered over, glancing around to see a few of your coworkers looking your way before you pulled open the passenger door and climbed in. His eyes raked over you, that white scar that ran across the corner of his lips twitching up as he smirked. 

He was broader than Satoru, stockier. All muscles, all man. 

His dark hair was shaggy, not carefully styled, his sturdy fingers running through it as he measured you the same way you measured him. He must’ve gone home and changed, in a dark shirt that clung to his chest, made you take note of his biceps bulging underneath his sleeves, probably big enough to make them burst if he strained hard enough. Wearing jeans, no name tag hanging on his belt now. 

But you already memorized his name. 

Toji. 

It had been on the forefront of your thoughts all day, right there with the rest of his words. He saw you. He wanted you. 

Invited you out like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. 

You were so distracted by, well, everything about him that you forgot to buckle your seatbelt until he stretched across the center console and did it for you. There was something kinda funny about a gruff guy like him taking care of something so small like that for you, grunting under his breath as it clicked into place. 

Maybe just an excuse to be close to you, to touch you again. 

You didn’t mind. 

His attention was nice. 

You didn’t know what to say though, awkwardly glancing between him and outside the window, wondering what a typical conversation looked like on a first date. 

“So, um, do you like your job?” You heard yourself ask, almost immediately wishing you hadn’t just from his soft scoff, the subtle arch of his thin brow while he pulled out onto the road. 

“It pays the bills,” he shrugged, and you tried to nod sympathetically. You were about to spout out something polite, but then he opened his mouth to talk again, giving you that dangerous bit of side eye that made your heart skip a beat. “But it ain’t so bad. Gotta meet you because of it, didn’t I, doll?” 

And there it was again.

Doll. 

Satoru sometimes called you sweetheart, but that didn’t send a shiver down your spine, didn’t have that low rumble to it that gave you goosebumps. When he said it like that, you wouldn’t really mind being a pretty toy for him to play with. 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, blushing hard as you tried to swallow your anxieties. 

You were overworked. Exhausted. Barely making it by on caffeine and four hours of sleep most days. But you were here. In a hot guy’s car being flirted with on the way to a bar. 

He briefly looked at you before turning back to face the road, but you could see the satisfaction in the crook of his smile. 

“Relax a little, baby,” he hummed, reaching over – and for a second, you thought he was going to grab your thigh. You hadn’t realized it was hope until he just turned up the radio instead. But with a second flash of that scar and that smirk, you were smiling back at him. “We’re gonna have fun tonight." 

It still took two glasses of wine for you to start to unwind, a pleasant buzz floating around in your chest, coloring your world in warm hues as he leaned in next to you, his barstool dragged close enough for his muscled thigh to be constantly brushing against yours. A massive palm casually resting on your side, pulling you in every time someone got into what could be considered your personal space. 

He didn’t talk about himself. 

Or that much, really. 

He’d ask a few questions, then let you ramble. Sometimes, his expression would shift, his harsh and blunt edges softening when you talked about the future, about how you wanted to quit someday, find a job that wouldn’t burn you out. But it hardened a few times too, scowling when you mentioned Satoru, glaring when a drunk guy bumped into you. 

And yeah, you got it. Your boss was a bit of an…acquired taste. 

It didn’t surprise you that he managed to piss off one of his employees, especially when you spent most of your days cleaning up the messes he made. 

“When did you start?” You cleared your throat, trying to change the subject back to him. To get to know him properly. To be the best date you could be – or at least good enough that he might want to take you home. 

“A while ago,” he shrugged, another vague answer as he polished off the last of his whiskey. 

He didn’t even seem buzzed. 

“I feel like an idiot for not noticing you there before,” you admitted, tugging down the hem of your skirt self-consciously, shyly looking up to meet his open stare. 

“S’fine,” he grunted, unbothered. 

You didn’t know what to make of him past the fact he was ridiculously attractive. 

Toji was abrasive. The rough side of the sponge scraping up your silverware, the hard counter edge you bumped into when you weren't expecting it, the sharp rock that sliced open the soles of your feet when you forgot to wear shoes outside. But being around him left you hoping to get cut by him. Fingers crossed that he’d be interested enough to peel you apart and stay long enough to stitch you back together – even if it was sloppy.

After being surrounded by people who only ever plastered on fake smiles and feigned politeness, he felt like the first breath of fresh air you had in forever. Something raw and real in a world full of plastic. 

He wasn’t polished. Wasn’t perfect. 

But you’d never been either. And you were tired of pretending and playing along. 

You took another long sip of your wine, the last drop lingering on your tongue as you pushed your empty glass forward too. 

He chuckled, almost appreciatively. Snagging the drinks menu and sliding it back over to you, letting his fingers linger on top of it like he wanted to remind you how large they were. 

“Pick your poison.” 

“I think I should probably get a water,” you murmured, a little worried he might think that was lame. 

He ordered you one anyway though, chuckling when you wiped away the ring of condensation from the counter after they took your glass away.

“Don’t wanna get drunk with me?” He taunted, butterflies in your stomach fluttering when he cocked his head to the side. “I’m hurt.” 

He wasn’t, not really. But you got the feeling he liked teasing you. 

“I just don’t wanna think this was all a dream tomorrow,” you laughed, forcing it to sound lighter than it really was. You really just refused to let yourself get so wasted that you might black out an entire date or embarrass yourself in front of him. 

His eyes narrowed, like he was the one that couldn’t discern if you were being serious. 

“You callin’ me dreamy?” He dryly mocked, and that pretty jaw of his clenched, like it was a joke.

“I mean, it’s just kind of hard to believe a guy like you wants to go out with someone like me,” you murmured, offering a small smile to the bartender when he pushed a glass of water over to you. 

“A guy like me?” He challenged, and you cringed at your ability to stick your foot in your mouth. You didn’t know if you actually offended him, if that was even possible, but you slipped your hand over his.  

“Y’know,” you drawled, tracing your fingertips over his veins, holding your breath. “Attractive and-”

He snorted.  

“So what does that make you?” He raised a question you’d never really been able to answer. There were labels you assigned yourself, but all those really amounted to was what roles you played for other people. 

Lately, all you felt like was Satoru’s assistant. 

Barely your own person. 

“I dunno,” you shrugged. “Just me?” 

“I like you,” he easily said.

“You don’t know me,” you pointed back out, bringing your water glass up to your lips to take a sip. Maybe he thought you were pretty. Maybe you’d caught his eye. But there was a difference in that and knowing what your favorite-

“You stay late even when you’re exhausted. You think of everyone else when no one gives a shit. Show up with coffee and pastries for other people when you can barely afford to pay for your parking pass. You never take your lunch break-” He was listing facts like he was bored, proving his point with the overhead lights glittering back in his green eyes. You almost choked on your water, and he slipped his hand out from your other one to drag his thumb over your lips. 

It felt scandalous. Like he was just waiting to commit some grave sin with how slowly he brushed it over your bottom lip, pulling it down just enough to make you wonder what his mouth would feel like, how his taste would compare to his touch. 

But then he let go, dropped his hand down just to make you miss it. 

“You kinda sound like a stalker,” you giggled, unable to stop yourself from grinning at being seen. 

There was some faint alarm bell you knew should be ringing, but your head had been emptied out to make room for more thoughts of him. 

He chuckled, and your chest tightened. 

“What’d you think I was giving you my number for?” He sarcastically asked, dark eyes narrowing under the dim lighting as he brought his own glass up to his lips. 

You stifled another smile. “To pay for my shirt?”

“I was thinkin’ about getting you out of it.”

Toji was shameless. 

And every flirt, every searing gaze of his that stuck to your skin and stoked that fire in your stomach? You were falling for it. For him. 

Would you be a whore for sleeping with him on the first date? 

Maybe, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it mattered. 

You were about to suggest maybe returning to your apartment, but your phone started vibrating, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to hold back your disappointment. 

“Hold on one second?” You nervously asked, and he nodded.

“Sure,” he barked, all gravelly, not helping the simmering heat still burning under your skin. You pulled your phone out, glancing around the bar for some semi-quiet spot to take the call. 

You settled on a hallway that led to the bathrooms, heels clicking on the floor as you hurried over, grateful that Toji had chosen a hole-in-the-wall sort of place, one that wasn’t packed with people to navigate through. 

“Hello?” Your voice waivered, face flushing at the mental image of what your boss was probably doing on the other end. Scowling down at the note you left him? 

“The hell are you?” Satoru whined on the other end, apparently not happy at your absence. 

“I’m on a date,” you whispered back into the speaker, just for him to scoff back. The sound of it, even tinny and crackling through the line, fucking stung. 

As if it was actually so absurd that you could be with someone. 

“I need you here,” he huffed. “We’re supposed to be preparing for tomorrow’s meetings.”

You tapped your foot, glancing back to the end of the hallway, picturing Toji sitting on the stool waiting for you. 

“I already prepared all your slideshows. Anything you need should already be labeled and on your desk,” you muttered, doing your best to still sound professional. Collected. Calm. Put-together instead of just a weak-willed pushover. 

Toji wasn’t wrong. You spent all your time thinking of Satoru when he really couldn’t care less. You were just convenient to him. That was what he paid you to be. 

“I can’t find it,” he grumbled. Lied. 

“I also emailed everything to you,” you added, and he didn’t bother to hide his whine of annoyance. 

Irritated that you had a life outside of him. That your existence wasn’t solely devoted to making his easier. 

“Who are you even ditching me for?” Satoru was pouting. You could hear it in his voice.

“If you really must know, he works in the maintenance department and-” 

He laughed at you. 

“Leave that loser.” 

Was that what he thought? That the best you could get was a fucking loser?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Satoru.” You hung up on him. Slipped your phone back in your purse, looking up just to see Toji leaning against the wall across from you. 

Startled, you stepped back, blinking and trying to figure out how someone as big and broad as him managed to sneak up on you.

“He botherin’ you?” Toji grunted, gesturing towards your purse.

“No, um, just work stuff,” you lied. 

You didn’t want to tell him the CEO of the company basically called him a loser. It felt mean, and you were worried he’d somehow think you shared the same impression. 

“Yeah?” He angled his head down to look at you, and his proximity made your pulse race, wild thumps roaring in your head as he took two steps closer. 

“I hung up on him,” you admitted, even though he hadn’t asked. Feeling bold just by being with him, as if you were already getting away with something. 

“You wanna give me all that attention instead, baby?” His voice was deep, a gruff purr that had you nodding. 

Your obedience earned a pleased hum. 

And even better, a kiss. 

The kind that knocked the air from your lungs, his calloused hands cupping your face as he claimed your lips for himself. You kissed him back just as hard, craning your neck up into it, tethering your fingers through his dark locks while you sucked on his lower lip. 

He tasted like whiskey. But his lips were soft enough to make you overlook the feeling that came with wondering if this was a mistake. 

If Satoru would fire you for wanting to get fucked instead of running back to fuss over him. 

Toji wasn’t the sort of guy who’d let you linger on silly worries though. No, his canines were already tugging at you, nipping at the spots you’d bitten out of stress, one of his rough palms travelling down your body, settling on your waist to pull you flush against his hard body. 

You wanted to touch him. 

To pull off his shirt and trace your fingers over all his muscles, map them out and drag your tongue over them. His was busy, already in your mouth, muffling your surprised gasp when his grip on your side suddenly squeezed tight. 

“Fuck,” he groaned into your mouth, an intangible thread in your stomach pulling taut at the sound. 

He dragged you back inside the bathroom, the employee one, like he wanted the thrill of fucking you in public with less of a risk of being walked in on. 

It was sleazy.

But the exhilaration of his hand now on your hip, the way his fingers dug in and wrinkled your skirt as he pulled you through the door, your back being pushed against the cold sink as his mouth latched onto your throat next, it outweighed any rational thought your brain could conjure up. 

You wanted him. 

The world could wait. 

This was more real than anything else your reality had to offer. His tongue licking a clean line up from your collarbone to your jaw, going back to leave messy hickies, claiming you as his. For tonight, at least. 

Hopefully longer. 

But you kept that thought to yourself, only letting small whines escape as his hand ventured under your skirt, toying with your panties underneath, slipping two fingers underneath it, testing how much the band could give. 

You didn’t want to scare him off. Push him away before he'd even put his dick inside you. 

He seemed like he specialized in one-night-stands. Like he was used to getting who he wanted when he wanted. And really, you were just so fucking sick of being single. 

Of being lonely. 

The hand that had still been on your face moved back, suddenly cradling the back of your neck, squeezing enough to make your head tilt back and give him easy access to more of you. 

There was a vulnerability to it, letting him sink his teeth into your throat, marking you up enough that the bruises would bleed through your concealer tomorrow.

But then Toji was tearing your panties off, easily rolling the flimsy fabric that you truthfully paid too much for, shoving what was left of it in his pocket before prying your thighs apart. 

You spread them further, your lungs freezing half-full of air as you watched him drag his eyeline down to your exposed cunt, already embarrassingly wet after just a couple hours spent in his company. 

He hiked your skirt higher, appreciatively admiring it, clicking his tongue as he shoved a thick finger inside you. Clearly, he’d taken note of how much you noticed them. 

You were gasping before he even made it down to the knuckle. Eyes widening, your hands immediately shifting to claw at his shoulder blades for some stability when you tried to contain your reaction. 

But Toji wasn’t going to let that slide. Refused to let you hide every lewd reflex – shoving another finger inside to join the first just to force out a strangled moan at the feeling of him stretching you open. 

Scissoring you at a tempo that bordered on lethal, only pausing his onslaught of kisses to watch your face when you said his name, all pitchy, almost pathetic. Putty for him with just a couple fingers. 

“Ya’ like that, pretty?” He grumbled, fraying with impatience, already itching to add another – or maybe trade his fingers out for something bigger. 

“Mm, mhm,” you murmured, nodding as you reclined your head back, the cold edge of the counter digging into your skin as he pulled you closer to him just to make you jolt again at the next pump of his fingers. 

“You wanna tell me why you’re runnin’ from me then, doll?” He dared, his eyes dark, his lips pulled into a thin line as you shook your head the other way. 

The intensity he came with was a double-edged sword. Drawing you in one second and threatening to spear you the next. Chasing the high of being fucked full just to run from the burn, the stretch, the pleasure when he pushed you right on the edge of a cliff the next. Finding yourself teetering a tightrope you never meant to walk on. 

“S’too-” You sounded slurred, even though the only thing you really felt drunk on was him. 

“Hm?” He waited for you to finish, stalling his next thrust with his fingers buried deep enough to reach a spot that was a little too sensitive, knowingly swirling against it while you squirmed. 

You were a wreck and he hadn’t even managed to make you cum yet. 

The too much that had been about to leave your lips replaced with a desperate plea for more. 

Your skin was hot, sweat sticking to your brows as he dug his fingers deeper, felt the sinful way you squeezed them, panting as tears started to form in the corners of your eyes. 

There was no running. Being spread and stuffed on a bathroom sink by a handsome man who might as well be a stranger, fingers poking and prodding at all your sensitive spots, readjusting his hand so his thumb could rub over your clit.

“Thought you had something to say?” He wryly mocked, and you were pretty positive you’d forgotten everything except his name. 

“T-Toji,” you whined, body stuck, all your muscles wound too tightly, hips arching up to meet his hand.

He kissed you again, harder, rougher. Crashing into you like a tidal wave, dragging you under, lost between him and the pleasure, being tossed around with each thrust of his fingers. Climaxing without even meaning to, not even a conscious choice, just being pulled into the motions as he massaged rough circles over your needy bud. 

And then you were sucking in air, his fingers pulling back out with a filthy pop! before he brought it up to his mouth and took a taste. Sucking on them and groaning at the second-hand flavor of you on his tongue. 

“Do you wanna come back to my place?” 

You should’ve known making you cum once wouldn’t satisfy him. 

Or twice. 

He had you up against the wall of his shower, your face pressed against the cool tile as his hips smacked against your ass, pounding into it as he continued to leave more hickies. 

“That’s it, pretty,” he grunted, his thick cock throbbing inside you, swollen tip nudging and grinding against your cervix like he owned it. Dragging himself along your walls, making sure you felt every vein, every ridge, warm water pelting both your bodies. “Look how good you're takin’ me.” 

His hand ran over the curve of your ass, softly patting it. It wasn’t a spank, but you wanted it to be. 

You shivered as he bottomed back out, leaning against him, mostly held up by him by now. “M-more.” 

“Greedy fucking girl,” he chuckled, but his voice was raspy too, running his hand back over your ass. “You want me to spank you?” 

You nodded, embarrassed to admit it. 

“Say it,” he groaned, and you squeaked. Surprised at the sudden stall of his cock, feeling yourself squeezing and squirming for him to keep going. 

“Please?” 

His hand came down, leaving a harsh smack that made you clench around him more, a moan escaping that echoed in the cramped space. 

Toji rubbed back over it, his fingers still damp, murmuring something low you couldn't make out under the shower running. But then he was back to thrusting, faster now, like he wasn't finished imprinting the shape of him into you. 

It was all moans, all skin-on-skin, lewd sounds and heavy pumps, his strokes only getting sloppier when his hand slipped over your clit. Intent on making you cum for him again, his jaw clenched when you tensed up. Planting kisses up your throat, teeth marking you with an unspoken mine when you shuddered and finished, white splotching across your vision as your limbs threatened to go limp. 

Toji pulled out, finishing on your back just for the water to wash his cum away. Down the drain with the soap suds. 

He whispered your name into your neck, soft lips tracing back over the mess of hickies he'd left. You were in a haze, brain foggy and chest still full even after your cunt was empty again, leaning against him when he cleaned you up. 

You never would’ve guessed he used the same brand of shampoo or conditioner as you. It was funny how many products you mutually had. Even the hand soap was a familiar bottle, new too, hardly used. 

He dried you off with a patchy towel, wrapping it around you and shutting off the shower. Pulling you back to his bed, half-made navy blankets in a mostly-barren room. The lamp by his bed was crooked, but there wasn't all that much personal stuff laying around. No posters decorating his wall. 

Nothing else to learn about him from his possessions. 

“Tired?” He grumbled, tossing you a t-shirt of his. 

“Mhm,” you yawned, dropping the towel to pull it over your head. No panties, but you figured you didn't really need any to sleep in anyway. 

You still felt nervous getting into his bed, waiting for him to get in with you. He hesitated, staring at you strangely before he grabbed a pair of boxers from the top drawer of his nightstand and pulled them up his thick thighs. 

Toji got in next to you, stiff, awkward, before holding out his arm, like he was waiting for you to snuggle up beside him. 

Maybe he wasn't as much of a man whore as you initially thought. 

He was acting new to this, holding his breath when you scooted closer, laying your head on his arm. 

You wondered if he’d ever been soft before. If he was capable of it.  

Even now, you were left with the vague impression this…tenderness wasn’t exactly that. An impression. A mask, maybe, something he wasn't used to wearing.  

But the afterglow was warm. Wrapped in the heat his body radiated, his strong arms sheltering you from the rest of the world as you sighed in contentment, resting on his bicep as you looked up at him. 

Your phone started buzzing inside your purse on the floor, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. 

“Sometimes I wish he’d just fucking disappear,” you mumbled, sighing as you tried to push off his chest to answer it. 

“Stay,” he growled, grabbing your waist to keep you in place. 

You pressed your palm flat against him, pushing your lips together in a pout. “I have to answer him.” 

Or he’d throw a fit and make tomorrow hell for you. 

Toji begrudgingly let you get up, glaring when you bent over to fish your phone from your bag, his scar twitching down as he frowned. “You ever think you’d be better off if he dropped dead?” 

You laughed, staring at the name on the screen as you shrugged.

“All the time.” 

You were trouble. 

Fucking you was supposed to make it easier. Satisfy the stupid urges he’d been plagued with since he saw your face. Since he heard your voice and felt your fingers on his skin. 

Instead, it sealed his fate. 

Yours too. 

Because laying in bed the morning after, watching the subtle rise-and-fall of your chest, finding himself tracing shapes on your skin for the excuse to keep touching you, a fuzzy feeling he couldn’t snuff out was suffocating him. 

Smothered in the scent of soap and sex and your sweet perfume. Sniffing the shampoo in your hair, sighing at the way his heart beat faster every time you tossed and turned. 

How long had it been since he slept next to someone? 

Shared more than a fast fuck? A quick make-out session that never made him feel anything? 

He snuck out of bed first, readjusting your head to rest on the pillow and pulling up his blanket to cover you before he caught himself. 

What the hell was he doing? 

You weren’t his girlfriend. 

But maybe you could be. If he played his cards correctly. 

And really, was there anything better than making a bet he knew he’d win?

He found his phone in his jeans, a few missed calls from Shiu waiting. He deleted them. Walked out into the kitchen, opening the door to his mostly-empty fridge, staring at the eggs in there, the few cans of energy drinks, before moving to the pantry. There wasn’t much there either. Rice. Ramen. 

Stuff for a single guy who didn’t give a shit about taking care of himself. 

“What’re you doing?” You yawned behind him, all sleepy and sweet, and he glanced back over his shoulder to see you walking over, clutching his blanket to your chest.

“Lookin’ for something to make you breakfast,” he grunted, folding his arms across his chest. 

You giggled, like it was fucking cute. 

“Got any coffee?” 

He made it a week of pretending to be a normal guy in a normal relationship before the fractures started forming. 

Donning his fake uniform and driving you to work and to your place, narrowly avoiding being spotted by your boss and undermining all those pesky security systems to set up for what he was really planning. Using a couple of his contacts to get his hands on something that couldn’t be traced back to him. Moving all the pieces into place while playing boyfriend. 

He might’ve dragged it out longer – went another few days, pushed back Gojo’s death date again – but Shiu wouldn’t shut up. 

Toji was supposed to be waiting for you outside, wishing for a cigarette and reading your message that your boss was making you help him with one last thing then you’d be down to get lunch with him when his own handler called. 

“The hell is taking so long?” Shiu scoffed over the phone, almost as annoyed as he felt. 

“Covering our fuckin’ asses,” he growled back. 

There was no way he was risking his fucking neck this time. He wasn’t going to jail for this shit – and he sure as hell wasn't going to let you either. 

“The client expects this done-” 

“I’m handling it,” Toji interrupted him, a gruff growl from the back of his throat.

He had the stuff with him, everything he needed to make you his – and send Satoru Gojo to an early grave. 

“Take care of it.” 

Shiu hung up on him. 

The soles of his boots were heavy on the ground, tapping his foot as he checked the time again. Two more minutes, and he'd call you. The seconds tended to drag by without you there. 

He heard your voice, faint, still far away, but he turned anyway. 

You were walking out the main doors of the building, Gojo walking close behind you, his brows drawn tightly together, scolding you. He grabbed your wrist, but you shrugged him off, Toji’s blood boiling at how handsy that asshole was, touching something that didn't belong to him. 

All the stares of people passing by, coworkers or not, shifted towards the two of you. 

Your sad little pout, your chest puffed out and trying to stand straight, while he glared at you. 

“Maybe I should just fire you,” Gojo scoffed at you, and you flinched. Toji could feel the vein in his forehead throbbing, fist clenching while you did your best to bite your tongue. 

But then you surprised him – and Gojo – by beginning to speak up, “I’m-” 

“You’re replaceable.” 

Your face crumpled at how sharply he cut you off. Struggling not to cry, to hold yourself together while he turned on his heel and stormed back inside. Other people pretended to not be eavesdropping, avoiding eye contact when you walked away. Head hanging low, rubbing your eyes, barely paying attention to where you were going until he caught you. 

You didn't even say anything when Toji pulled you in for a hug, squeezing you against him as you automatically hid your face in his chest. 

He was shit at comforting people. Had never really known what to say. How to make anyone feel better. 

But you didn't seem to mind, a few muffled sobs snuffed out when your mouth was pressed against his broad muscles.

“H-he said he’s gonna-” You tried to choke out, but Toji just softly patted your head.

“Don't worry about him,” he grunted. 

He wouldn't be alive long enough to actually fire you. 

Toji didn't say that though. He let you cry in his car, listened to you vent about your latest argument, wiped away some of your tears with the calloused pad of his thumb. 

And when your break ended, and you were supposed to go back to finish off your shift, he walked back in with you. Made up some excuse about putting off taking care of the next maintenance ticket, like he hadn't already disabled all the cameras in the building earlier. 

Usually, he preferred a bullet and brute force. Didn't see the point in a delicate touch and careful preparations. But he'd make an exception for you. 

This one time. 

“I think I'm gonna make him some coffee,” you murmured, still sniffling as you grabbed the stuff you needed for it. 

Like it would be a truce instead of a death sentence. 

You didn't know any better. Just scurried around the break room, not noticing when he poured a little packet of powder into the cup the moment your back was turned. 

“You’re too good for him.” 

You glanced back at Toji, smiling even though it didn't reach his eyes. Not really believing it, but still appreciating the sentiment. 

“You're probably the one person that thinks that.”

You picked up the cup of coffee, pouring a ridiculous amount of sugar in, enough to cover the slightly bitter powder. You even snagged a can of whipped cream from the fridge, swirling it on top as if your efforts would be appreciated. 

Two birds. One stone. 

Or really, two fools and one cup of coffee. That was all it'd take for you to be his and both your problems to be solved. 

And if it didn't?

Well, his gun was still tucked inside the band of his jeans. 

“Are you sure you're not going to get in trouble?” 

Toji had gotten on the elevator with you, his hand still slung too low on your waist to be purely polite, brow arched up at your concern for him slacking off. 

“Just wanna make sure you're alright,” he grumbled, huffing and looking back at the buttons lit-up on the elevator. 

You weren't really sure what he was to you. 

A boyfriend? A lover? 

But you didn't mind. His proximity was nice. His presence in your life was welcome. 

Even if it was causing problems with Gojo – who had made it clear he couldn't stand sharing your attention at all. Hated you having a life. 

You weren't delusional enough to think maybe he'd change his mind if he met Toji. 

But your fingers were still unsteady as the elevator dinged and let you off on the top floor. 

Gojo was sitting at your desk, legs propped up and feet on your paperwork. He was pretty as always, white hair tousled, one of those sharp brows of his casually raised as he glanced between you and Toji. “Is this seriously the guy?”

He laughed like it was an insult. Ignoring your frown when you walked over to hand him his coffee. He took it though, bringing it up to his mouth but not before scoffing again. 

“Satoru,” you hissed out his name, a low warning that he was rolling his eyes at.

He took a long drink, whipped cream sticking above his lips like a mustache before his face paled. The next few seconds slowed, crawling by as you watched him drop the mug, ceramic shards shattering as he choked. 

You were staring, your brain refusing to process what you were seeing, Toji’s voice registering behind you but the words not making any sense. 

What the hell was happening?

Somewhere, the vague thought hit you that something was seriously wrong, that Satoru was dying, but nothing would connect, your body refusing to respond to even the notion of it.

Your mouth fell open, but your scream was muffled by Toji’s hand. Knees buckling, just for him to catch you in his arm, one arm wrapped around your midsection to hold you up. 

“Hey, hey, I'm here,” he gruffly muttered, and you clung to that. 

“W-we need to call someone,” you stammered, your panicked gasps turning into hyperventilating. This was bad. Really, really fucking bad. 

“It’s okay,” he soothed in your ears, turning around so you couldn't see Satoru anymore. Wouldn't have to look when-

You couldn't even finish the thought. 

“Just breathe, baby.”

“I-I can't.” You were trying, but no air would enter your lungs, throat constricting more with each attempt. 

Toji paused, his palm pressing harder against your back before he stiffened. 

“We need to go.”

You let him lead you back out, his hand on your spine still guiding you forward. One step, and another. Focusing on the rhythm in them, the pattern of the elevator carpet, a crack in the sidewalk, whatever was beneath your feet to stop the image of Satoru from flashing in your head. 

Was he dead? What could even cause it? An allergic reaction? Poison? 

Oh God no. 

He led you back to his car. 

Toji had parked it further down the street than usual, opening the door for you to get in and buckling you in again. It didn't feel quite as romantic as the first time.

“Where are we going?” You asked, voice cracking as you forced the words out. All you really wanted was to sleep, to go somewhere that you didn't have to think anymore.

“Don't worry about it, doll,” he casually said, shutting the door behind him and walking around to the driver’s seat. 

“Is he-” 

You couldn't get the question out, and he didn’t answer.

“The cops are gonna think-” You started, only just starting to swallow the bitter pill that you were screwed. 

“They’ll frame you for it,” he scoffed, and you recoiled. Surprised at yourself for forgetting what you already knew about the man in front of you. 

He wouldn't sugarcoat it. 

Make fake promises to you that this would be fine. 

“But I-”

“Do you want to spend the rest of your fuckin’ life behind bars?” He growled, and you hated how much of a point he had. 

You shook your head, fingers trembling as he stilled them with his own. 

Gojo had a lot of enemies. Any one of them would be happy to let you take the fall. 

All you'd done was give Gojo a fucking cup of coffee – and now he was dead.

“There’s cameras,” you murmured, ones that would catch you running away from the scene of the crime. 

“They've been down half the day,” Toji grumbled, and you had no idea if that was even a relief. 

Your feelings were all jumbled, guilt, horror, disgust, regret, even affection and adoration tangled up in there with Toji trying so hard to keep you safe. 

You stared at him, still shaking, and he leaned across to spare you a heated kiss. Grounding you here with him, his calloused palm caressing your cheek as his pretty eyes narrowed. 

“I'll protect you.” 

Toji meant it.

The motel was shitty, far enough from the city you dozed off on the drive, but there weren’t any cameras. No one to watch him carry you from his car and no one to care after he tossed enough cash to cover a room at the strung-out receptionist. 

You woke up still in shock. Reeling from what you’d seen – or rather what you’d done. 

“Someone’s gonna come-”

“No one’s gonna find you, baby,” he promised, and it was one he intended to keep. 

You curled up on the bed, and he crawled in next to you, letting you bury your face in his chest to muffle the faint sounds of crying. Stroking your hair at first, eventually untucking your shirt from your skirt to trace soothing patterns over the bare skin of your back. Maybe you were scared right now, that was natural.

The first kill was always the hardest. 

Once you were somewhere safe, once you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, you’d relax. After the news cycle covering your former employer’s death died off, and the investigation went cold, you'd realize that you wouldn't get caught. 

And if you adjusted better than he hoped, maybe you could be his assistant. 

Or if not, maybe he could leave this life behind. Find something more stable. Part-time work, or something he could do from home to spend more time with you.

You fell back asleep on him, lashes fluttering as he ran over his next steps. 

He'd gotten rid of both your cells and tossed your wallet on the drive, slipping the sim cards out and destroying them when he got gas and paid in cash. Someone had probably found the body by now. He'd need to switch cars to pick up the payment from the drop off point, but that wouldn't be a problem. 

There was a payphone outside, one he could see from the window. He'd call Shiu from it in a few minutes, let you dream on him for a bit longer. 

The pay for this would be enough for fake passports, to buy some place off grid – and install a state of the art security system. To keep intruders or officers investigating out. 

And more importantly, keep you inside. 

There was nothing better than a bonus for a job well done - especially one as pretty as you.

[dynameow]

LOVE IS A DISEASE ✶ FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI | M.LIST

꒰ synopsis ꒱ ✶ between managing dynamight’s image and cleaning up his pr messes, you think you’re decent at keeping things under control. unless it comes to your feelings—you definitely can’t keep those under control or: you are bakugou katsuki’s perpetually nagging publicist, and he’s your most troublesome client. for some odd reason, that’s exactly why you both work

꒰ word count ꒱ ✶ (tba. but estimated 40-50k words) ; holy fuck this is the longest thing i’ve ever written so far. plssss give it a chance though!!!

꒰ before you read ꒱ ✶ female reader + feminine clothing ; publicist reader ; quirkless reader ; pro hero bakugou ; bakugou and kirishima run an agency together ; workplace romance ; many chronically online social media references ; smut (please read warnings on individual chapters!) ; villain attacks ; injuries + blood (nothing gory though) ; canon compliant + contains spoilers for timeskip ; fluff + bantering ; arguments + minor angst ; happy endings! ; mostly proof read

꒰ commentary ꒱ ✶ omg. i have no clue how this small idea blew up into a whole series but here we are lolllll

꒰ upload schedule ꒱ ✶ chapters will be uploaded once a week on friday evenings cst! (the first 33k words are already written i swear the chapters are coming)

── ✶ PART ONE (16.6k words)

── ✶ PART TWO (12.1k words)

── ✶ PART THREE (coming june 12th)

more tba. (there will be at least one more part but it might be more. idk yet it depends on how many words the ending scenes will be as i only have them roughly outlined so far)

[dynameow]

LOVE IS A DISEASE ✶ FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI | M.LIST

꒰ synopsis ꒱ ✶ between managing dynamight’s image and cleaning up his pr messes, you think you’re decent at keeping things under control. unless it comes to your feelings—you definitely can’t keep those under control or: you are bakugou katsuki’s perpetually nagging publicist, and he’s your most troublesome client. for some odd reason, that’s exactly why you both work

꒰ word count ꒱ ✶ (tba. but estimated 40-50k words) ; holy fuck this is the longest thing i’ve ever written so far. plssss give it a chance though!!!

꒰ before you read ꒱ ✶ female reader + feminine clothing ; publicist reader ; quirkless reader ; pro hero bakugou ; bakugou and kirishima run an agency together ; workplace romance ; many chronically online social media references ; smut (please read warnings on individual chapters!) ; villain attacks ; injuries + blood (nothing gory though) ; canon compliant + contains spoilers for timeskip ; fluff + bantering ; arguments + minor angst ; happy endings! ; mostly proof read

꒰ commentary ꒱ ✶ omg. i have no clue how this small idea blew up into a whole series but here we are lolllll

꒰ upload schedule ꒱ ✶ chapters will be uploaded once a week on friday evenings cst! (the first 33k words are already written i swear the chapters are coming)

── ✶ PART ONE (16.6k words)

── ✶ PART TWO (coming june 5th)

── ✶ PART THREE (coming june 12th)

more tba. (there will be at least one more part but it might be more. idk yet it depends on how many words the ending scenes will be as i only have them roughly outlined so far)

[alygator77]

── off the record ၇୧

꒰ summary ꒱ when a misunderstanding leaves your family convinced you’re bringing a plus one to your cousin’s wedding in Japan, the last person you expect to volunteer for the role is your infuriatingly observant intern, Satoru. it’s supposed to be temporary. professional. strictly off the record. but with your mother already sold on the idea of your mystery boyfriend, and Satoru proving far too good at the role, pretending starts to feel a little too dangerous. also, why is your “intern” secretly the heir to gojo corporation?!

꒰ tags/warnings ꒱ fake dating ⚹︎ undercover ceo! satoru ⚹︎ accountant! reader ⚹︎ satoru is 29, reader is 26 ⚹︎ lots of family pressure. reader has a complicated relationship with her mom ⚹︎ forced proximity ⚹︎ one bed trope ⚹︎ slow burn ⚹︎ mutual pining ⚹︎ wedding chaos ⚹︎ angst and fluff ⚹︎ some suggestive content but no explicit smut ⚹︎

꒰ authors note ꒱ hi cuties! this is a commission piece, and it is about 12k total. this first part is just shy of 6k and the second part will be out next week. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻 (art by @/hanamin_0123 on x)

"Oi. Boss lady."

“No.”

One problem at a time, and the spreadsheet in front of you wins by default. Because Column F is wrong. It’s been wrong for forty fucking minutes, and if it stays wrong for forty seconds longer, you may actually die here at your desk — hunched over, half-blind, and found by Shoko on a Monday morning with your face pressed into a pivot table like a cautionary tale.

"But… you don't even know what I was gonna—"

"—the answer is no, Satoru."

Unlike the human embodiment of a headache currently lingering on the other side of your desk, the spreadsheet in front of you is at least pretending to be important.

The chair beneath him creaks, and then comes the silence you know too well. It’s the one that comes right before he decides to be a problem on purpose. Attention is gasoline and Satoru is, structurally, a fire hazard. Still, your eyes flick up, and—

"No fair…” he huffs, that ridiculous pout tugging at his lips. “You didn't even let me finish the question."

Your eyes roll back down.

“Mhm.”

"And it was such a good question.”

You turn a page. "Really?”

“Yup.” He’s draped over the corner of your desk now, like gravity has wronged him, whining. “It was such a thoughtful… personal… deeply relevant… extremely genius level getting-to-know-you tier question that—”

You scowl. "—Satoru, enough. Just do your job."

It lands harder than expected. The sigh he lets out is deeply, theatrically offended. And when you glance up again, he’s sprawled over that same corner of your desk you made the mistake of clearing for him on day one because you’d thought, foolishly, that giving him a designated surface might contain him.

It had not.

Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.

Snowy white hair falls against his brow, sleeves rolled to his elbows; looking far too expensive and far too comfortable for someone whose official title is intern. His coffee is sweating beside your open planner — the one with a date next week circled in red: WEDDING, scrawled across the margin in your own handwriting. The condensation trails towards a stack of vendor invoices and—

…

Wait.

Are those the same vendor invoices you asked him to file yesterday?

Fucking great.

“Oh, c’monnn,” he grumbles, blinking at you over the rim of those absurdly expensive sunglasses he insists on wearing indoors. “One question. Just a tiiiiny one. It’s completely harmless. Humor me, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes.

“Satoru, you’ve been trying to ask one question for the last four months.”

“Yeah,” he says. “And you’ve been dodging it for four months. Imagine that.”

Technically… four months and four days. But who’s counting?

With an exhausted groan, your eyes fall shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. Noise drifts in from the hall — the elevator, the printer, a phone trilling somewhere nearby.  But when you look up again, it all seems to fall away.

He’s gone strangely still. The smug grin hasn’t disappeared, but it’s softened at the edges, hooked at one corner with his head tilted slightly. And those eyes…

Oh.

That’s — no. You’ve seen his eyes before. Obviously. Four months of them. But right now, with the morning light doing something cruel and unhelpful behind him, they catch in a way that makes you forget you were mid-thought. The kind of blue that doesn’t ask if you’re looking. It already knows.

Which means of course, you look away first. “Fine.” Your hand drops as you mutter. “One question. But if it’s stupid, I’m sending you back to HR.”

It’s not much of a threat. It’s his last day, after all, and for reasons you still don’t fully understand, Satoru has always seemed oddly immune to consequences — which, frankly, feels statistically improbable given the amount of shit he’s managed to pull in the few months of being here.

“One question?” his grin sharpens. You point your pen at him. “Don’t make me regret this.” Yet his pleased chuckle is already making you. “Awhh… look at you. Finally yielding.” His pen twirls between his fingers, nodding with false solemnity. “Okay. So, here’s the thing… throughout these four months working beside you, I’ve seen a lot—"

“—that’s not a question.” You deadpan.

But ignoring you, he reclines back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head.

“Liiiike… I’ve seen the exact face you make when Mei-Mei emails you,” he smirks. “Even noticed you work through lunch more than you should. And I’ve noticed that little line right here—” he gestures vaguely between his own brows “—every time the budget goes sideways.”

Lips parting, you blink.

…why is he so observant?!

For someone who acts like he doesn’t give a shit, he’s strangely attentive.

You clear your throat, huffing. “Okay… what’s your point?” Your hands straighten a stack of papers that doesn’t need straightening. “Is there a question in here somewhere, or are you just reciting my habits back to me for fun?”

His grin is far too pleased. “Relax. I’m getting there.” And leaning forward, his voice drops, like he’s unraveling a conspiracy. “I just find it interesting how you answer work calls before the second ring. Every damn day. Doesn’t matter who it is.” His head tilts with a smug grin. “But for whatever reason, for the past month, your personal phone’s been ringing off the hook, and you never pick up. Not once.”

Heat creeps up your neck. Not because he’s wrong — but because he’s right. And he said it like it was nothing. Like noticing the pattern of your avoidance was just something that happened to him between stamps.

Oh.

Way too observant.

Shit. He couldn't have settled on what's your favorite color!? Or, what superpower would you have!? No. Of course he had to go for the fucking jugular.

His eyes drop to the planner lying open beneath the invoices. The circled date: WEDDING. And his grin sharpens. “Ohoho… I get it now,” he whistles, leaning back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “What’d your fiancé do to screw up this bad? Is the wedding off?”

Your head jerks up. “F-Fiancé?!” And he rolls his eyes with a scoff, still grinning. “Knew it. God, he must be really in the doghouse. Or maybe he’s just clingy as hell to be calling that much.”

You blink.

Okay. Nevermind. He’s wrong. That is not even remotely what’s happening. The most committed relationship you’ve had is the one with your coffee machine. And yet… part of it feels almost cosmically cruel.

Because somehow, this is the second time in a month that someone had looked at the scattered pieces of your life and decided a man must be hiding inside them. Except the first time, you never even got the chance to correct it.

After all… how do you tell your mother she’s wrong?

Last month, you still answered her phone calls.

Not because you expected anything different. But because somewhere between the second ring and the third, there’s this gap — this stupid, paper-thin gap — where you still believe she might ask how you’re doing and actually wait for the answer.

Some habits taste like smoke. Some burn like liquor. But yours, unfortunately, had always looked a lot like hope.

Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.

“Oh—uh, hi mom!”

Your phone was wedged between your ear and shoulder while you stepped out of your car, juggling your purse and what was left of your sanity. You were already behind schedule, and your mother was calling — which meant the day had already made its intentions very clear.

“What’s up?” the door slammed shut with your hip. “I’m actually about to—”

“—Trish sent the venue photos,” she blurted, launching into a conversation like always.

Blinking, you shook the bitterness away. Striding toward the towering glass of Gojo Corporation. “That’s—yeah, that’s great,” you muttered, badge in hand as you pushed through the front doors. “But I’m actually heading into work right now? So—”

“—It’s such a beautiful venue,” she ignored you. “Very traditional, very grand. But you know the Zenin family—they never do anything small.” And as she sighed in awe, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

The rational part of your brain told you to let this go to voicemail. But the rational part of your brain has never once won this fight. Because…

Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.

"Mom, I'm sure it's lovely, really… but I'm kind of—um, excuse me…" you pivoted around a man in the bustling lobby with a sigh. “Sorry. I’m literally walking into the building right now? But maybe we can revisit this later and—"

"—have you booked your flight yet?"

Your mouth flattened.

Clearly, your half of this conversation is optional.

“No… not yet,” you mumbled, as patiently as you could manage, jabbing the up button harder than necessary. “It’s been a crazy ass week so I haven’t had a chance to, but—”

“—every week is a crazy week for you.” The huff she let out sounded almost offended by the inconvenience of your life. “Why can’t you just book it now while we’re talking? I mean, it literally takes five minutes.”

A miracle, really, that your blood pressure isn’t a medical emergency.

Every week is a crazy week?

Yeah. No shit.

Two managers resigned last quarter. Another got escorted out by security. And their work didn’t disappear. No. It landed on your desk. Because that’s how it goes. That’s how it’s always gone. Group projects. Internships. End-of-quarter disasters no one else wanted to touch. If something needed fixing, it found its way to you.

You’re the one people relied on.

Just… never the one people chose.

“Mother. I’m at work,” you said, stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open, dropping your voice as you stabbed at floor fifteen. “Look—I’m about to walk into an eight a.m. meeting. But I’ll book it tonight, promise.”

“…eight a.m.?” she repeated slowly, before letting out a small, unbothered laugh. “Oh! Right. It’s eight p.m. here. Silly me. I keep forgetting.”

…

Keep forgetting?

She keeps forgetting that she’s ten thousand miles away? Forgetting that twenty years ago she abandoned you in another country to live abroad in Japan—handing you to your grandparents like a detail she'd get back to later?

How convenient that she forgot that.

The elevator slid shut, and you watched the numbers tick upward. “Um. Yeah…” you managed, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. “Anyways. I’ll book it tonight. After work. Okay?”

"Okay, okay. Sure. Sounds good. But are you bringing anyone?”

Squeezing the strap of your bag, you swallowed the lump in your throat. This again? The last thing you needed was to walk into your shitty eight a.m. meeting looking emotional.

No thanks.

“I… uh…” you cleared your throat. “I um—actually—haven’t decided yet. But anyways, I gotta go, so—”

“Waitwatiwait. Haven’t decided? Does that mean… you actually found someone?!”

Her voice pitched up so fast it almost startled you, and your mouth dropped so low it could’ve hit floor one.

Shit.

“I-I—I didn’t say—"

“—oh, thank God. This is incredible!!” she squealed. “We’ve been so worried. I mean—Trish is younger than you and she figured it out,” her tongue clicked. “People have been asking questions, you know. Your aunt Sara keeps bringing it up every time I see her and—”

“—Mom, I—"

“—It’s about time,” The laugh she let out was relieved, like a problem in her life had finally begun resolving itself. “You can’t keep putting love on hold forever, because men aren’t going to wait around forever. You’re already twenty-six—not getting any younger, dear.”

Love?!

Who has time for that?

And why the fuck is twenty-six the age a woman expires?!

“What’s his name?” she pressed, practically beaming through the phone. “What does he do? Is he from there, or—oh, is he Japanese? Your father would love that, he always said—”

And she was off.

Spinning an entire man out of thin air. An entire future, really. Building him in real time from a tiny slip up you had because you were too tired and cornered and desperate enough to answer the phone in the first place. And you stood there, letting her. Because interrupting her has never once worked in the history of your life.

“—actually, never mind,” she chirped a moment later, as if she was being considerate now. “You have work. I’ll call tomorrow and you can tell me everything, yes? Okay, bye-bye honey—”

Click!

And just like that, the elevator went quiet. You were left staring at your reflection in the metal doors, phone pressed to your ear, listening to the silence where your mother’s voice had been.

‘We’ve been so worried.’

…

If they were so worried… why had you spent most of your life learning to take care of yourself? And yet, the second there might be a man, suddenly you’re worth getting excited about?

Funny how that works.

Scoffing, you lowered the phone, shoving it into your bag just as the elevator chimed open. Itadori Yuji’s head snapped up behind the reception desk.

“Morning, boss,” he waved, radiating sunshine as you walked towards the conference room. “Kento’s asking if you’re still good for the budget review at eight… or if I should just tell him to panic.”

Your smile softened, burying the sting. “Yes… I’ll be right there.” And as you stepped through the polished glass doors, you played the role you’d always played.

The reliable one. Twenty-six years old, with two master’s degrees, a career at one of the most competitive corporations in the world, and a team of seven that would quietly fall apart without you.

But…

None of that glitters quite like a diamond ring, does it?

“Oi,” Satoru frowns. “You’re makin’ that face again.”

“Huh?”

Blinking out of your spiral, your eyes trace back to the man across from you. His chin is resting in his palm, those impossibly blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet stillness that makes something in your chest trip over itself — like a lock turning in a door you didn’t know was closed.

“Oh.” You clear your throat, forcing the pen back into motion. “…what face?”

“The one you make when something’s wrong,” he says quietly, gaze unmoving. “When you’re upset and trying to act like you’re not.”

For a second — one terrible, unguarded second — you don’t have a single thing to hide behind. It’s just him, looking at you like your well-being is something he’s been keeping track of in a column you didn’t even know existed.

But then the sarcasm kicks in, right on time. "Wow," you say, forcing your hands back to the papers in front of you. "So… now you read faces?"

“Mm... nah. Just yours, sweetheart.”

And that grin — god, that fucking grin — hooks at one corner like he knows exactly what just detonated inside your chest. You don’t acknowledge it. Acknowledging things have consequences, and consequences with this man are not something you can afford.

"…that’s highly inappropriate," you mutter, shoving it down. "Let’s maybe redirect some of that insight toward the invoices, yeah?"

“Sorry, sorry.” He leans back, hands up like he’s the picture of innocence. “Wouldn’t wanna start shit with your dear future husband.” His grin goes sharp as he twirls his sunglasses between two fingers. “Though, wow. Tough look for him. Whatever he did, he clearly fucked up bad.”

Why does he sound… bitter?

No. You must be imagining it. This is Satoru. Satoru, who treats everything like a joke until proven otherwise. Satoru, who doesn’t care enough about anything to sound bitter over a man who may or may not exist.

You scoff. "You’re making some wildly stupid assumptions right now…"

He perks up at that. "Oh?" With his grin hooking higher, almost hopeful. "Wait. So, there’s no fiancé, then?"

Your lips purse.

What does he care? He’s not your mother.

“I wish you’d be this interested in your actual job,” you sigh, arms crossing. “Those invoices have been sitting there all week.”

“Uh-huh.” He tips his head. “And yet somehow, I noticed you still didn’t answer me.”

You frown.

What the fuck are you supposed to say!?

Oh. Um. Actually, Satoru, there is no fiancé. That’s the problem, actually! My mother invented him the other morning and I haven't worked up the nerve to call her back.

Yeah. No. You'd rather die at this desk.

“Maybe because it’s none of your business.”

“But I—”

“Drop it.”

He stares at you for a beat, then he flops back in the chair with a dramatic huff, long legs kicking out in front of him, mouth dragging into a sulky pout.

“Well, damn,” he grumbles, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, rolling his eyes. “No wonder you’re single if this is how you shut people down…”

The second the words leave his mouth, he blinks. His gaze flicks up to yours like he hears it too late — like he realizes, all at once, how shitty that sounded.And it only feels worse the moment he sees your face.

God.

Of all the places to hit.

“Oho… wow. Okay. This?” you say with a thin, self-deprecating laugh, chair scraping as you shove back from your seat. “Yeah. This is exactly why I shouldn’t have let you ask, Satoru.” You reach for your planner, your purse, anything to do with your hands besides let them shake.

He straightens, watching you scramble. “Whoa. Wait. I—"

“—because you don’t know when to stop!” The words come out louder than you mean, blinking at the sting behind your eyes. “You just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you get what you want. Well good. I hope you’re happy.”

Before you can turn away, he’s on his feet. “Wait—” And the moment his hand catches yours, you freeze, breath snagging.

His voice is quieter now. His grip is firm yet gentle, and the air between you shifts, while something warm and uneasy twists low in your chest. The kind of feeling that makes you want to lean in and run in the same breath.

Though your eyes stay down. “Satoru… let go.”

“I didn’t…” he starts, then stops, gaze flicking to where his fingers still circle your wrist — before climbing back to your face, slower this time. “I’m… sorry. I just—” His mouth tightens. “I see how hard you work, okay? I see it. And every time that phone rings, you get this look on your face like it’s already ruined your day before you even touch it. And…” His brows pinch. “Fuck. I dunno why, but it pisses me off!”

Your gaze hesitantly drags to his, and the look in his eyes is softer than they have any right to be — all that blue, stripped of its usual sharpness, turned careful. Like he’s stepping toward something breakable and knows it. Like… if he asked once more, something in you might actually give.

“Satoru…” your breath hitches. “I-I—"

“Oh, finally.”

Shoko’s voice trails in, and your head snaps up so fast your neck almost goes with it. She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, coffee in hand — looking like a woman who arrived exactly on time for something she's been expecting all week.

Her gaze flicks down to where he’s holding you, and the corner of her mouth twitches.

"Sooo… not to interrupt whatever this is," she says, taking a sip, "but Kento's one eye-twitch away from a medical event. He needs you to sign off on the variance line before he starts reconciling his own will and—"

You're already jerking your hand back. "Yup—coming!" And as you step away, heat floods your face, but you don't look back. Not once. Not even when you feel him still standing there, watching you go.

Because looking back would mean acknowledging that something just shifted. And you are not — not — doing that today.

Unlike those invoices, perhaps some things are better left… unfinished.

You’re gone in a blur of heels, nerves, and professional self-preservation, leaving Shoko trailing behind and Satoru staring at the empty doorway like maybe the conversation might wander back through it.

It doesn’t.

And it’s not long before his mouth is pulling into a slow, petulant pout—just before he flops back in the chair with all the elegance of a man personally betrayed by the universe.

Un-fucking-believable.

He’d almost had you! After four months and four days of being stonewalled, redirected, and professionally shut down, you’d finally looked like you might give him something. A crack. A sliver. And then Kento had to ruin it with his stupid reconciliation sheet, his stupid earnest face, and his stupidly impeccable timing.

…

He could fire Kento.

Should he fire Kento?

As tempting as that thought is, Satoru settles for glaring at the empty doorway a second longer before dragging a hand down his face and raking it back through his hair. There’s no point. This performance will end soon. Because by this time tomorrow, he’ll be on a flight back to Tokyo. Where he can resume the slow, agonizing process of preparing to inherit a company he didn't actually give a shit about.

'Grow up, Satoru.'

'Apply yourself, Satoru.'

'You have no idea what it takes to run something like this, Satoru.'

Right. Because apparently, the heir to a multinational corporation needed to learn humility. Alphabetize files. Sit in a cubicle. Fetch coffee like some goddamn spreadsheet slut with a trust fund and nowhere to put it.

Four years of business school, two years shadowing his father; and yet, this is what they had for him?!

He scoffs. And when his gaze drops to the wreckage of your desk, he’s pulling the stack of vendor invoices toward him with a sigh that sounds put-upon even to his own ears. You’ve been nagging him about filing them for the better part of the week and… the least he can do is clear one thing before he goes.

The stamp thuds against the first page. Then the next. Then the next. And with muscle memory taking over, his face goes blank in the way it always does when boredom finally wins. It’s mindless shit. Still, he’s used to it. So naturally, when the phone on your desk buzzes, he doesn’t think twice; snatching it up, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he reaches for the next invoice.

It’s probably another budget nuisance. Or Mei. Or one of the other thousand little crises that seem magnetically drawn to your extension.

“Yo,” another stamp echoes. “Satoru speaking.”

There’s a sharp inhale. “…who?”

His brow lifts. “Uh… Satoru?” Another thud of ink slams against the paper and he huffs, annoyed. “What do y’need?”

The line goes quiet for a beat too long. Before the woman on the other end finally murmurs, “Satoru…” Sighing in awe. “What a lovely name. Is that Japanese?”

"Uh… yeah?” he snorts, flipping to the next page. “I mean. Last I checked.”

“Mm… I thought so!” She giggles. And her voice pitches like she's just unwrapped a present she didn't know she was getting. “So… Satoru. Why exactly are you the one answering her phone, hm?”

…

Why the hell does this woman sound so invested? And why is she asking questions that should be obvious?

Frowning down at the invoice, he stamps it harder.

“Because it rang?” He says it like it’s obvious. “And uh—sorry, but. Maybe because I’ve been with her for months, so… why the hell wouldn’t I?”

"Months?!” A soft gasp crackles, far too delighted. “You've—you've been with her for months?!"

"Mmm… four months and four days, technically."

He’s been her intern for that long.

That’s the question, right?

"—technically?!" she squeals, like the word personally seduced her. "Ohmygoodness—oh, this is perfect. Four months and four days—that is so specific.”

He blinks. But she doesn’t give him time to process.

“Look at you Mr. Devoted. Keeping track. I was starting to worry she’d never find someone like you. Every time I asked it's like pulling teeth. But I knew there had to be someone. I told her father—I said, there is a man, I can feel it.”

Pausing mid-stamp, the words slowly begin to catch up. Satoru straightens.

"…sorry. Who is thi—"

“—everyone is so excited to meet you at Trish’s wedding. I already reserved your seat and—"

Her voice keeps going… and going… and going. He pulls the phone away slowly as her voice echoes on the receiver, staring down at the phone in hand to see:

📞 Mom

Oh.

Oh, shit.

This is not your work phone. Your work phone is currently sitting at its dock twelve inches to his left. And it dawns on him that he accidentally just spent the last sixty seconds answering your personal phone like an absolute jackass and—

"Uh…” he backpedals. “Wait. I—"

"I told Sara, I said, we have to meet him and—”

"Stop. I-I really think—"

“—Satoru, what are you doing?’

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, mouth dropping as he sees you standing at the doorway, eyes wide in horror.

Oh, fuck.

“Who is on the other end of that phone,” you hiss.

He winces, pulling the phone from his ear like it’s toxic — and you’re snatching it right out of his hand. He lets you have it without a fight, sinking back into the chair like he’s trying to physically dissociate from the situation he’s just created while you press the phone to your ear.

“And I mean…” she rambles. “I certainly was never one to wait around at twenty-six, believe me. But—"

"Mom."

"Oh! Honey!” She gasps. “Oh, my goodness, hi—I was just having the loveliest chat with—"

"I'm at work. Gotta go."

"—okay! I can't wait to meet Satoru, he—"

Click!

The phone sits in your hand like evidence.

And Satoru — to his credit — has the decency to look like a man standing in the blast radius of his own stupidity. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Like he’s rehearsing an apology in a language he hasn’t learned yet.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

And somewhere ten thousand miles away, your mother is already calling your aunt Sara.

“Sooo… funny story…”

“—what did you do?!”

Satoru flinched, and now, the tears were already rolling down your cheeks — hot, fast, completely unauthorized. Not the kind you could disguise as allergies or blame on the air conditioning. No. The ugly kind.

Great. Fucking great.

You were standing in the middle of your own office, in the building where you work, crying in front of your intern. And Satoru felt the weight of it all at once. In the last four months, he had seen you in every flavor of workplace misery there was. Pissed off, stressed out, one spreadsheet away from actual murder.

But cry?

Never.

And this had his fingerprints all over it.

"Shit," he breathed, panic flashing across his face. "I—fuck. Okay. Please don't—I can fix this. I can—"

"Fix this?" A splintered laugh ripped out of you, and you hated how thin it was. "Fix what, Satoru? You just confirmed a boyfriend to my mother, a boyfriend that doesn't exist—and she is, at this very moment, probably already—"

Another break in your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your hand to your forehead hard like you could hold the tears in by sheer force. But it only made it worse, because now you could feel the wetness on your own face, the heat of it under your palm, and the mortification landed like a second wave.

God. How fucking humiliating.

"Hey, hey—it's okay,” his voice softened. “We'll just… call her back. Right? Tell her it was a misunderstanding. Easy."

“Easy?” you scoffed, the word coming out strangled. “Y-You don’t understand my mother, Satoru,” you managed, voice gone thin as thread. God, you sounded like a child. “If she thinks something is true, then it’s true. That’s it. That’s—there’s no correcting her, there’s no walking it back, she’s already told my aunt Sara by now and Sara’s told Trish and—oh, fuck—”

Another sob tumbled out, and your fingers dug harder into your temple.

God. Stop it.

Stop it stop it stop it.

Think.

Think logically. You're good at this. You solve problems for a living.

But every time you tried to grab onto a thought, it slipped — replaced by the echo of your mother's voice, high and delighted. The happiest she'd sounded talking to you in years. Maybe ever.

…what look will she give you when you show up alone?

"I can’t," you whispered, and the word came out waterlogged. "I-I'm supposed to get on a plane to Japan in a week and—do what? Tell them there's no one? Tell them I'm still—"

Single.

The word sat in your mouth like a stone. You didn’t realize you’d gone silent until the silence itself started ringing — your sniffling, the hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled life of the office continuing beyond the door like yours wasn’t actively coming apart at the seams.

And through all of it, you could feel Satoru looking at you. His stillness; holding you with an expression you'd never seen on him before and couldn't categorize if you tried.

"Um…” he looked down, scratching the back of his neck. “Soooo... the wedding's in Japan?"

You blinked. “What?” And as you wiped your face with the back of your hand, his gazed tentatively flicked back up. “The wedding…” he repeated, voice careful. “It’s in Japan?”

"Yes." Your brow furrowed, not understanding. "Why?"

He didn't answer right away. Just looked down at the floor for a second, jaw shifting, like he was turning something over in his head — something he hadn't fully assembled yet but could already feel the shape of.

"Huh… okay."

Okay what?

You watched his expression change in real time — from guilt to calculation to something else. "Right then!" He said, clapping his hands once, bright and sudden. "No biggie. I'll just go with you."

No biggie?

Your mouth dropped.

That wasn’t even an option, was it?

…is he crazy?

“You’re kidding,” your laugh was awkward and breathless. His eyes rolled with a smug grin. “Sweetheart, c’mon,” and he was gesturing between the two of you like the answer was sitting there in plain sight and you were the only person in the room committed to not seeing it. "Your family thinks you're bringing someone? Cool." A hand pressed to his chest with theatrical solemnity. "I'm someone."

You stared at him. Genuinely stared.

Oh. He wasn’t kidding.

Yup. He’s crazy.

"You are not 'someone,' Satoru. You are my intern."

“Yeah. For like… another six hours?"

He checked his watch with a shrug, and your lips flattened.

"…that is not the point."

“Mm… feels a little like the point."

He smirked, but it faded faster than usual, dimming at the edges as his blue eyes hesitated on yours. Something shifted in his posture; the performance pulling back, like a tide going out. "Um… look…" He pushed off the desk, stepping closer. "It’s really no hassle." He said, hands sliding into his pockets. "I already have a flight scheduled. My family's in Tokyo. And I was going back after this internship anyway, so… this just moves my timeline back a little."

He was shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t agreeing to fly across the world with you and walk straight into the disaster that was your family.

…

His family’s in Japan too?

You barely knew anything about him. He kept his life sealed off with the same practiced deflection you kept yours — jokes in place of answers, charm in place of honesty. You never bothered to ask, because asking meant caring and that was a door you never intended to walk through with anyone.

But…

"Just… let me come with you. I’ll be your boyfriend for the weekend. For the wedding. For… whatever you need,” he said. And this time, when he stepped closer, there was no grin to hide behind. "I can be useful. I caused this. So… let me fix it."

Heat creeped up your neck, and you scoffed, weakly.

"Okay… but you can't fix my mother."

"No…” he murmured, tilting his head. His hand came up and brushed a tear trailing down your cheek with a careful gentleness. “But… I can make sure you don't have to walk in there alone?"

Your breath hitched, and when your eyes finally lifted, the morning light was being cruel again — catching in that impossible blue and turning it soft. Like stained glass dipped in sunlight. Like something holy made dangerous by the simple fact that it was looking straight at you.

“Mhn. So, do I get the job, boss lady? Because that look you’re giving me…” a slow smirk curls up the corner of his mouth. “Very encouraging for my boyfriend résumé, by the way. Might get addicted to it and wanna make it a full-time gig.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, looking away too fast to be convincing.“That was not a look. I was just—” You grimace. “…never mind.”

He’s chuckling as you brush past him. And his words are what scared you the most. Which was bad. Very, very bad. Because your mother was one problem. Japan was another. But Satoru looking at you like that?

Shit…

That felt like the kind of complication that didn’t stay neatly contained. And you knew better than anyone. Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.

a/n: hehe. this has been fun to work on! i am excited to share the next part. clearly i love these fake dating/fake marriage tropes aha 🙂‍↕️ bc this is like... what—my third time doing it? soooo i tried to change things up and make it feel less standard/generic :) but anyways, like i said pt 2 will be out in a week, pls lmk if you wanna be tagged 💖

[ahhsjshsjsjdkd]

THIS IS SO SO SO GOOD. THIS IS JUST SO PEAK FAKE DATING/FAKE MARRIAGE UGHHHHHH JUST HIT THE SWEET SPOT 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨WHEN IT ENDED AS A CLIFFHANGER I THOUGHT THAT WAS IT BUT I SAW THERE WOULD BE A PART TWO AHHHHHH CANNOT WAIT

[froggibus]

just saw another writer on here say their fics were ‘heavily inspired’ by c.ai…so let me be clear

using c.ai does not make you better or any different than other ai users. using c.ai is just as bad as using any other sort of ai. you cannot be anti generative ai and still use c.ai.

as a writer who has had their work stolen and put through c.ai multiple times, it’s very weird to be using a platform that basically encourages theft to ‘heavily inspire’ your writing

this blog is free from all uses of AI—and I cannot believe this needs to be clarified—but that includes c.ai. i have never and will never use ai to come up with, inspire or god forbid, actually write for me.

there are no ethical uses of generative ai. ai and ai users are not welcome on my page.

thanks <3

[fairsexynasty]

ultimately, many writers on this platform do not understand media ethics. that’s because you fools grew up on the internet, capitalism fucking punk'd us, and older generations/our leaders never made the effort to tell us to get off or fully educate us about it.

ai is a process, not a tool. it is a process of outsourcing intellect in return for “efficiency”, but what we don’t realize is that efficiency is simply a codeword for fascism. if we outsource our creativity, our education, our curiosity, we lose the power over our private selves and indebt ourselves to lives of poverty, sickness, and suffering if we continue to rely on these machines.

generative ai is extremely embarrassing to use, not on an intellectual level but on a humanitarian level too. you’d figure, on the site where we proclaim to be such leftist, progressive individuals, you’d think that people would hear of ai’s harm against americans of color and the effects data centers have on the the environment and choose not to partake.

if you’re still feeling uneducated on matters of the web, here are some resources i recommend you engage with before blindly using the Internet again. dm for help on obtaining anything for free. these resources are not meant to provide you an absolute answer regarding ai, as there certainly is not, but will and can help you understand why it is important to protest generative ai and fight for policy to be implemented.

Understanding Media Ethics by David Sanford Horner, 2015.

On Liberty, Utilitarianism and Other Essays by John Stuart Mill (very hard read, I’d just look for excerpts within 'On Utilitarianism')

The Great Hack. 2019 Netflix Documentary

TED Radio Hour broadcast “Unintended Consequences” (NPR, November 2, 2018)

Explained: Generative AI’s Environmental Impact, article by MIT News, 2025

Make no mistake--AI is owned by Big Tech by MIT Technology Review, 2023

[bfbkg]

LOVE HAS NO EGO (2.3k)

— prohero!bakugou x phd student!reader

you haven’t heard from your situationship for a month after he ended it with you. you decide to drunk call him one evening.

NOTES: part of my GREYSCALE series. this can work as a standalone but would make more sense if you read the other parts. if you’re here after the last part, thank u so much the messages and theories and responses. they have been so thrilling to read. see this part as a FILLER CHAPTER!! i just wanted to write them.

TAGS: situationship. angst. after the breakup. jealousy. class dynamics. insecurity. cigarettes. alcohol.

a positive reason for dating apps is that you get to cross paths with people you would have never come in contact with outside of it. you didn’t grow up in the same area, don’t work in the same field or have mutual friends. you’re not similar with the details you’d write on your resume but similar in all the ways that matter. like humour, music, morals, kinks and love languages.

though this tends to mean that after you stop seeing each other, there is no way for you to cross paths again. you don’t go to the same supermarkets, nor the same library since he isn’t a student, you definitely don’t attend the same sunday morning flea market or farmer’s market on mondays. 

this is how it would go if you dated a normal man. it’s definitely how it’s going for the man who rushed out of your apartment roughly… fifteen days from now, if you’re definitely not counting. 

new tomato soup from that brand you kind of like, the local glasses shop has a deal on, the band your roommate loves is going on tour and a luxury underwear brand with number four hero bakugou katsuki as the face. sprawled out in only his undies on white sheets, tyra banks smizing at the camera.

you have half the mind to smash the glass and pull out that poster because how dare he break your heart and show up at your nearest bus stop every forty one seconds. not only that but he flickers on your television in his full hero gear whenever you go onto the news channel, helping out another children’s hospital. and your fucking phone is either listening to you or eating those cookies wisely because every other post and advert on social media is about dynamight. also known as bakugou katsuki. also known as your ex something. your could have been. your so close but not quite.

you think you hate him. his gorgeous gold tooth smile as he laughs on television, how you suddenly become unsure how to use the remote when they interview him. his grumpy resting face, furrowed brows and deep raspy voice appearing as he describes working with the kids is “better than any hero work he’s ever done.” you roll your eyes. swallow the lump in your throat.

you groan aloud when the youtube adverts in your phd lecture includes pro hero dynamight shrugging with a breakfast bar in hand. “d’you wanna eat a bar that goes boom?” then he laughs, his fake one. not like the one he’d do when he’d lay in your arms at night as you tell him a story about your childhood. you get your whole class staring at you but all you can do is clench your fists under the table. you last about twenty minutes before rushing to the bathroom to have a cry, a short one with no traces you ever did it.

if it’s not through a screen or a poster. bakugou katsuki is the guest star in all your dreams. you have three common themes. one where he’s having sex with you. usually in your bed, his head between your legs or when he’s thrusting from behind. both times you never see his face but you know it’s him. every time it’s a cruel joke, expecting to finally see his pretty ruby eyes beside you when you wake up. 

there’s another where you go down to the bus stop advertisement by your house and every advert is a picture of him with a different woman. every single one looking nothing like you. you’re stuck to the ground unable to leave, forced to watch him laugh, sling his arms around and kiss someone else. but then you turn around and he’s always there to tell you it’s not real. he wants you.

and lastly, one where the argument was worse. he swears at you. tells you you’re incapable of love. ruined by the last guy. how you don’t deserve him after knowing how much he wanted you and  you ignored it. whenever you get that dream, you’re grateful to wake up.

you sit in the pub garden alone, your phone shining up at you, full phone number filled in. you haven’t drank enough to be making drunken mistakes but every exhale, still after four weeks feels like fingers are clutching on your heart. 

you thought he’d text you the day after. maybe even two days after. he’d ask when he could collect his three hoodies he left at your apartment and his tool box that he forgot to drop back into his car after he fixed your wardrobe hinge in the summer.

two days drifted into a week so with a face full of tears and throat full of hiccups from your cocoon hut on your bed, you blocked his number. if he doesn’t want to text you, well fine, now he can’t even if he wanted to. you know it’s a stupid move as soon as you do it. your roommate says a quote she read off tumblr about how love has no ego, translated into maybe you should text him first. 

but all the walls you had built up before seem to be plated over with titanium. he left you. but he’s waited so long for you. you fucked up big time. but how did he leave after you bared your heart out to him? you still aren’t ready.

the harsh wind slaps across your face and you tug your jacket tighter around your body. a shiver shakes through you but it only reminds you to relight your cigarette, tapping off the ash on the glass dish on the table. your tights coated leg bobs, rereading his number over and over again. if you press green, you could talk to him. how fucking good would it be to hear his voice again towards you, instead of talking to a reporter, trying to sell your something or educate you on road safety. for bakugou katsuki to just say your name again.

you take a swig of your cider and punctuate it with a drag of your cigarette. this isn’t you, but somehow it feels like you have been cut into before katsuki and after katsuki. after katsuki you would call him. before katsuki you would tell him to fuck himself.

you exhale the smoke through your teeth. 

love has no ego. 

you press that green button and the cold screen presses against your cheek. fuck. fuck. fuck. you haven’t yet considered the possibility of him not answering, what if he doesn’t want to talk to you. what if he blocked your number too? but it rings. it rings long enough for you to create trillions of possibilities of why katsuki wouldn’t answer your phone call. maybe he’s…

your dynamight obsessed algorithm did show you a paparazzi photo of bakugou with a woman in the back of a cab. whispering something in her ear, lips pressed to her lobe as she blushes. that image made you gag, rush to your bathroom to dry heave.

three beeps. you tap your cigarette. a dull tone. he didn’t pick up. 

“oh you fucking—,”

his number flashes on screen… he’s calling you. shit you see in your dreams, here right now. you swing back another gulp of cider, glancing back at the bustling pub behind you. katsuki’s calling you.

you look back to the phone, heart rattling against your chest like it’s magnetised to the one on the other side of the line. 

you press the green button again, phone to your cheek.

“h—hello?”

“yn.”

you could sob. you swear you were fine, you haven’t cried in three days, you’ve thought about him about ten percent less than this time last week and— fuck, nothing has changed.

“hi katsuki,” you breathe and it’s as if all the neurons in your brain have been set alight. serotonin and dopamine and all the happiest chemicals shooting down your body at once. the nicotine makes your skin buzz, everything mixed together soothing you like a fluffy blanket or a pacifier.

“are you okay? are you safe?”

you stub out your cigarette. 

you can’t decipher his tone. a mixture of irritated, panicked and beneath it all, you think you can recognise the relief somewhere mixed in. you’re not drunk enough for this, at all. 

“what? yeah, i’m fine—,” somewhat. mostly heartbroken.

“good. i’m gonna hang up now. i couldn’t have fuckin’…,” he sighs deeply and you can imagine him running his hand down his face, “anyway, bye yn.” 

“wait!” you screech. you could apologise, beg for him to come back, that you’ll do better, be better. that you’ll let him in completely. it feels as if you’ve run a marathon, heaving at the finishing line, “you couldn’t have what?”

there’s a pause. 

katsuki curses. he sounds deeper, like he’s aged in almost two months apart, “if you were callin’ me for help and i ignored it. wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

“oh,” you exhale, fiddling with the loose string on your skirt. you don’t exactly know what to do with that. “i’m at the pub… i probably would call emergency services if i had trouble.”

the pauses between every sentence are too long, no natural flow like there used to be. it’s like everything is glaringly obvious. maybe breaking up was a good idea. you miss him terribly. you wonder where he is, usually he’d be at yours at nine thirty pm during the week. 

“that’s smart. a hero closer could help you.” you think he’s awkwardly rubbing his nose or his eyes. you hear a scratch of his stubble against the mic. “yn… i’m gonna go now yn—,”

you’ve never heard him say your name so much.

“are you dating anyone? i saw…  i was wondering if you…” perhaps you were drunker than you thought.

bakugou grunts, pained as if someone jabbed him right in the stomach. “i’m not answerin’ that.” and tacked on at the end, you hear it, muttered under his breath, “jumpin’ to conclusions.”

embarrassment becomes energy that bursts through you like you ate one of his stupid sponsored bars.

“of course, i am! all i see is you saving children, trying to shove another product in my face and a picture of you with a woman! why won’t you tell me?” you’re on the edge of tears, shaky breaths to stabilise yourself as you pull a loose thread right out of your skirt. “i… i….”

i hate you. you can’t even say the words.

you imagine him leaning back on his office chair, phone to his ear as he looks up to the ceiling. it’s a split second where bakugou wonders whether he should make you wonder like he does every night, if you’re laying in bed with another, if you’ve moved on. it’s a thrill to know you’ve been thinking the exact same as him.

“fuck,” he grits his teeth. he cannot bare the pain in your voice.  “i’m not datin’ anyone. that’s my publicist.”

you want to ask more. you thought he fired her? why’d he keep her?  did he take her to a fancy ass restaurant and did she like it? she probably fit right in. he doesn’t need a publicist. or to be working with a woman that pretty.

you chew on your bottom lip, it’s probably red raw at this point. you wipe under your eyes swiftly.

“i still have your hoodies and your t-tool box.”

he hums sharply. he knows. “you can keep them.”

your heart feels as if it’s leaking. “katsuki.”

pleading for more. for something.

“i miss you,” you try, whispering the words like they’re a secret the wind might carry. the problem was you didn’t give, you didn’t give him anything before. you can change. “i want to see you again.”

he’s probably looking at his palm, as if the future is written in his prints. 

“i need…,” he sighs, “yn, we need—,”

but he gets cut off when a familiar voice calls you. panic runs through your veins, like a kid getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“yn, you better not be on the phone to that man,” your roommate stomps over to you, “how many drinks have you—,”

“i’m not!” you wave your hand at her before she can get too close, you need more time. you’re not sure when you’ll be able to talk to him again. another month? “i’m talking to that guy from my module, we have a project together.”

“what guy?” bakugou butts in, then another annoyed sigh but this time at himself, “don’t answer that. for fucks sake.”

you blink, unsure to focus on the literal man of your dreams over the phone or your roommate now taking a hands on the hips power pose. she holds out her hand for you to drop your phone in.

“gimme.”

“it’s just for the project. it’s forty percent of the final—,” you say to bakugou but your roommate gasps.

“aha! give it to me or say bye to katsuki,” she pushes, “you shouldn’t be talking to him after months, drunk.”

“i’m not even—, hey! i’m not even d-drunk!”

bakugou wishes he was in a different life, where you guys never went bad and you were his girlfriend drunk calling him to say how much you miss him. not whatever this is, even if it is slightly amusing.

“i’m gonna hang up now. get home safe yn.”

“w-what wait—,” the last syllable is forgotten as a new voice takes over the phone.

“bye katsuki. i’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

“thank you.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated! i delete comments asking for the next part.

GREYSCALE MASTERLIST

[ahhsjshsjsjdkd]

DID U KISS THE BRICK FIRST BEFORE THROWING AT ME??? I WISH U DID SO THAT IT HURTED LESS. AHHHHHHH THIS IS SO GOOD. I CAN FEEL MY HEART BEING CRUSHED INTO PIECES FOLLOWED BY AN ELEPHANT SITTING ON MY CHEST ON A RANDOM TUESDAY AFTER NOON AFTER READING THIS.

[bfbkg]

— THE OPPOSITE OF A SLOW BURN masterlist

firefighter!bakugou x romance publisher!reader

when there’s a false fire alarm in your office, you are gifted with the sight of the finest man you’ve ever seen. you want him now.

tags: smut, fluff, 18+, attraction at first sight, reader is HORNY 24/7, nervous!bkg, somewhat of a chronological order, facts might differ throughout. mixture of fics n drabbles

everything is tagged under #firefighter bkg

FIRE STATION TOUR

THE OPPOSITE OF A SLOW BURN (4.3k)

FIRST DATE

TOP OF THE LEADERBOARD

HEAVY LIFTING

LOCKER ROOM TALK

FIREFIGHTER MC

BANANA BREAD

OVULATION

DADDY

BREAK!

ROLEPLAY

COULDN’T KEEP UP

AGAINST THE WALL

IZUKU

EMERGENCY CALLS!

CHARITY CALENDAR

THRU THE PHONE (2.4k)

[tsumusamu]

amortentia iii [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: fluff, mild angst, hogwarts!au, awkward feelings, (fr)enemies to lovers

warnings: slight implied sexual content

words: 13.6k (IT’S LONG I KNOW </3)

part one / part two / part three (you are here)

content under the cut

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